Motivations
by Taraum
Summary: Jedi Knight Daesha Ven thought defeating the Emperor would be the end of her troubles. But as a mutually beneficial alliance blossoms into something more, she will be forced to answer a harrowing question. What does she truly fight for?
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: In no way do I own or am I associated with SWTOR; it is the property of EA and Lucasarts. I am making no profit from this story, and I claim no ownership of the characters or situations therein contained. Much of the dialogue in the first few chapters will be taken either directly from or adapted from the game's narrative. On a different note, I was inspired to write this after reading SpaceDreamer's wonderful story Thwarted Longing, which I highly recommend. _

* * *

"You gave the Emperor time to gather his strength. We are all fortunate to be alive," Scourge accused, his red eyes narrowing dangerously.

"We accomplished our mission, and no one was left behind," Daesha Ven replied, powering down the holoterminal. She looked up, calmly meeting his furious gaze. "I told you at the beginning of this mission that we are all stronger together. I did the right thing by saving Doc, and I would do it again."

"You wasted precious time; and for that, there is no excuse," Scourge snapped.

"I would have done the same thing for anyone, Scourge. Even you, had the situation called for it," Daesha sighed. How she tired of these debates sometimes.

"As if I would have needed your assistance in dispatching _guards_," the Sith hissed. "The good doctor, I fear, cannot say the same."

"Hold on! I'll be damned if I'm gonna take that from some creep who acts like he's always constipa-" Doc started.

"Enough!" Daesha barked, moving between the two men. She placed her hand on Doc's shoulder, biting her lip to keep from laughing as she looked up at him. "Doc, everyone knows what you mean, but I _really_ don't want to hear about that. I'd rather keep my mind on more pleasant things, please." Turning her head to look up at Scourge, she sobered. "Scourge, there is no need for this. I helped him, and he's alive. If we cannot help each other, then why work together? The mission was a success, and the Emperor is dead. It's over," she smiled.

Scourge was silent for several moments, the ship's thrumming being the only sound audible. "Your recklessness will lead you to ruin," he finally murmured, shouldering past Doc and heading for his cabin.

"It's gonna be a long flight. Someone wake me when we get there," Kira said, rolling her eyes as Scourge left the room.

"That's the best suggestion I've heard in a long time," Daesha smiled, squeezing Doc's shoulder. "Why don't we all get some rest?"

"You can always come rest in my quarters, beautiful. I know a lot of ways to help a woman relax. After what you accomplished today, I'd say you're owed quite a bit," Doc winked down at her.

"Please, try to behave." Daesha sighed, rolling her eyes. "I'm glad you're safe, though. Try not to scare us like that again."

"I'll do my best," Doc promised. "You saved us all today. Congratulations."

"Without everyone's help, this victory would have been impossible. But thank you," she smiled, turning away and heading to her quarters. Daesha was halfway down the corridor before she heard Kira's quick, light footsteps catch up to her. An arm slipped through hers, and she turned to look at her former apprentice. Kira's face was tired, and there were dark circles under her eyes. They walked in silence to Daesha's quarters and paused outside the door. "You should rest, Kira. Drommund Kaas obviously didn't have a good effect on you. The entire planet feels like a black hole. I've never been in a place so infected by the dark side."

"It…brought back some bad memories. I'm sure I'll be fine, though. Some sleep will do a lot of good. I'm more worried about you. Most people would be ecstatic that the Emperor is dead. You seem preoccupied," Kira admitted. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm still in shock, I suppose. Killing the Emperor is not something one does every day. I still can't believe it," Daesha said.

"But that's not all?" Kira deduced.

Daesha's gaze slid down the hall to Scourge's cabin. "I'm worried for Scourge. I just…expected more of a reaction, I suppose. He has worked for this for almost three hundred years, after all. You would think he would be happy."

"The king of darkness, happy?" Kira smirked. "Have you been smoking deathsticks?"

"Not since Corellia," Daesha snorted. "If not happy, then maybe…I don't know, satisfied, at least."

Kira shrugged. "He has to deal with all of this in his own way. Just like I'm about to. Have a pleasant rest, Master."

"You as well, Padawan," Daesha winked. "See you when we reach Coruscant." Daesha entered her room and waited until the door whooshed shut behind her. She felt Kira's presence fade slightly, no doubt having gone into her own cabin across the hall. Daesha leaned back against the door, her shoulders slumping in exhaustion. She vaguely felt Doc's presence as he turned into his own quarters further down. She knew that for all his bravado, he wouldn't have had the energy to perform his _relaxation techniques_. All she could sense from the majority of her crew was a bone-numbing exhaustion. Even Rusk, who could usually take on an army by himself, had already fallen to sleep. The only exception was Scourge. He, oddly enough, felt alive with energy. Or at least, what little Daesha could pick up felt alive; Scourge was very good at masking what he truly felt.

Daesha crossed to her bed and pulled out the little silver mirror that Doc had given her for her last lifeday. She slowly sat down on her bed, looking into the refection. Her brown eyes looked unfocused, the dark circles and bags under her eyes a stark standout against her unusually pale skin. Normally, she was two shades tanner, but she hadn't slept well since Corellia; and it was showing now. Daesha put down her mirror and undid the bun holding her dark brown hair in place. She ran her hands through it a few times before pulling off her vambraces; then she began peeling off her armor until she was down to just her undershirt and leggings. She rummaged until she found her sleepclothes, desperate to be out of anything that smelled like battle and that horrible, ashy residue of the dark side. Once she had changed, she slipped into bed, grateful that this whole ordeal was over. The Emperor was finally dead, and the Republic had a chance to turn the war in their favor. All was as it should be, was Daesha's last thought before the warm pull of sleep overtook her.

* * *

He wasn't really sure what he had been expecting. After all these centuries of careful planning and total obedience to a corrupt Master, Scourge had allowed himself to think that he might feel…something. Yet nothing had changed. The world was still gray and void. Emotions, with the exception of anger, were stamped down into his subconscious. They were the faintest of echoes, recalled only with the most vicious concentration.

He could hear the gentle noise of the ship's environmental control systems switching on; he could see the way that they gently ruffled the sheets on his bed, yet he had no idea if the air was warm or cool. There was no sensation…nothing. After everything that he had done and sacrificed for this day, was this to be his reward? The knowledge that his vision had succeeded, yet an eternity of nothingness?

Scourge began to pace. Had he been able to feel emotion, he knew that his present frame of mind would have been panicked. The disappointment would have led to heaviness in his chest and an elevated heart rate. The fear would have consumed his mind, making following any rational chain of thought impossible. He would have been sweating, perhaps even panting, at the horror of this situation. To continue living in this manner - forever - would be terrifying. But instead of the stirrings of fear or panic that should have come, all Scourge could feel was a burning in his chest. His heart began to pound, but not in fear. Anger, his one link to emotion, the source of his power, flooded him in its full intensity. The heat of it spread from his chest outward, down his arms and legs, into the very soles of his feet and palms of his hands. He relished the feeling it provided. The ravenous heat flooded his veins, the anger's intensity as beautiful and dangerous as the stars flying past the ship. Scourge closed his eyes, channeling his anger in his mind and flooding it through the Force around him. In his mind's eye, he could see the waves of it flowing outward through the air, like ripples in a pond. It was glorious. He would never understand why the Jedi refused to embrace their darker emotions. By ignoring a source of such incredible power, they weakened themselves. It was little wonder that the Empire had crushed them in the early days of the war.

Scourge stilled and dropped his hands. As the moments passed, his anger slowly died. It was replaced by the full realization of everything that had just happened. The Emperor was dead. With his death, the Dark Council would be in chaos. At least for a time. The Republic had an opportunity now to strike a crippling blow against them. The vision was completed, and their mission was accomplished. As the moments passed, he also realized something else, more personal. He would never be welcome in Imperial space again. When word of the mission spread, he would likely be the Empire's prize bounty. Although anyone that came after him would be met with a rather rude surprise. If the Republic accepted him, he knew that it would be in name only. He had yet to meet a Sith pureblood since he had joined Daesha's crew. Well, with the exception of Praven; but he didn't count. No pureblood that turned to the light was a true Sith. He had finally accomplished his goal, only to be left alone in a muted, gray existence. Scourge chuckled gruffly…such was the hand of fate. Sitting on his bed, he sighed deeply. Whatever energy his earlier anger had given him had disappeared. He understood now why the others had all but passed out on the boarding ramp. Lying down to stare at the ceiling, Scourge almost felt his age.

* * *

_Daesha woke well before they reached Coruscant. Upon glancing at the chrono, she groaned. Only five hours had passed. Ever since Corellia, she hadn't been sleeping well. Perhaps it had been the days of that campaign, being forced to catch maybe one or two hours of rest between seemingly constant battles. Or perhaps it had just been the last few years. She couldn't remember the last time she had actually relaxed. _

_ Sighing, Daesha climbed out of bed. She padded down the hall and into the galley. Using the Force, she slowly began heating a cup of water for some tea. When it was hot enough, she pulled down one of the blends Kira had acquired on their last market run. She scurried down the hall, dimming her presence in the Force so as not to wake Kira or Scourge. When she reached the holoterminal, she set the power output on the lowest setting before drawing up a map of the galaxy. At the fleet's current speed, they should reach Coruscant within the next two days. She deleted the fleet's images, leaving a blank map of the galaxy. Sitting down, she performed a simple meditation, focusing on the image and clearing her mind of all else. As the hypnotic blue disc slowly turned, she sipped her tea. The stars were like diamonds floating in water, and she wondered at the multitude of them. To think that the Republic wouldn't have to fear anymore, that some of those stars and their inhabitants might gain freedom again…_

_ "And here I thought that the Jedi did not believe in selfish indulgences," Scourge's voice sounded from behind her. Daesha turned, craning her neck up to look at him. She raised an eyebrow in confusion. Pointing at her tea, he continued. "I do not remember that being on the supply roster." _

_ "Its use is purely medicinal, I assure you," Daesha replied. "It's jasmine tea, after all." The blank look on his face told her all she needed to know. "Jasmine is a plant native to Corellia. When the leaves are dried and crushed, they're made into a tea that helps with insomnia. It's a sleep aid." _

_ "I cannot understand why you would need any help sleeping. The doctor promised to help you relax, did he not?" Scourge asked, sitting down beside her. The look in his red eyes was mocking. _

_ "We all know the way that Doc relaxes," Daesha smirked. "It's not really the kind of celebration I had in mind after what just happened. Killing dozens of people, the Emperor included, isn't something that speaks to my libido." _

_ "Quite a pity. It would have been interesting to hear something exciting around here," Scourge replied, his mouth turning up slightly when Daesha spit out a mouthful of tea. She wiped her mouth before giving him a disgusted look. A moment passed before he spoke again. "That was a joke, Jedi." _

_ "You're in an awfully good mood tonight. Why?" Daesha asked, finishing her tea before his next answer. _

_ Scourge shrugged, looking up at the holomap. "This is a day I have waited lifetimes for. To feel again, to see the world as others see it, to smell again…small miracles like those have been worth the wait," he sighed deeply, turning to look at her. _

_ "You are…free of the Emperor's hold?" Daesha asked, a smile springing to her face. _

_ "Yes," Scourge replied. He studied her face for several moments. "I had forgotten what strange colors humans could have for eyes."_

_ "I have yet to meet a human who has naturally red eyes," Daesha shot back. _

_ "No, I suppose not," he agreed. Reaching a hand out, he hesitatingly ran two fingers down one of her cheeks. "Your skin is like…vinesilk," he finally said. _

_ Her cheeks reddening, Daesha turned her head away. "I never would have thought of that comparison," she chuckled nervously. She looked up at the map, hoping to change the subject. Sensing this, he moved his hand to her shoulder. _

_ "You fought well today, Daesha. We are all in your debt," he said. _

_ "It would have been impossible without your assistance," Daesha reminded him. "I wouldn't have even known where to begin. Where will you go, now that the Emperor is dead?" _

_Scourge shrugged. "I do not know at the moment. This place is suffi-"_

"Will you wake up?" Kira muttered, shaking Daesha's shoulders. "We're supposed to be landing in half an hour." Daesha blinked in surprise, thankful when Kira finally stopped shaking her. "I've been comming you for almost ten minutes, but you wouldn't wake up."

"I was dreaming," Daesha mumbled, pushing up on her elbows.

"It must have been one hell of a dream for you not to answer five comms. Who exactly was in this dream?" Kira grinned.

Daesha sat up and rolled her eyes. "It wasn't that kind of dream, Kira. Just a…dream. I can't remember the last time I slept well enough to dream."

"Well, don't get used to it," Kira laughed. "After we land on Coruscant, we're expected at the Senate in two hours. You'd better get into the refresher before Doc does. You know how long he takes."

"I'll be quick, I promise," Daesha replied. "Thank you for waking me up."

"Anytime," Kira smiled before slipping out the door. Taking her advice, Daesha quickly found a clean pair of robes before hurrying out the door. As she walked, her mind wouldn't stop replaying her dream. What would it be like, to see Scourge actually at peace? As a Sith, she didn't even know if he believed in peace. One of the foundations of their code was that peace was a lie. But Daesha was a Jedi, and they did believe in peace. She highly doubted that Scourge would ever actually join the Jedi, but if his curse could somehow be lifted, who would he become? Wasn't it the least he deserved, after all the help he had given her? Daesha was so wrapped up in her thoughts that, as she rounded the corner to the refresher, she collided with the very subject of her thoughts. His reflexes were quicker than hers today, because he caught hold of her upper arms before she could fall backwards. "Quite distracted this morning, aren't you, Jedi?" he asked.

Daesha stared straight at him, shielding her mind for all she was worth. Summoning all her training to keep from looking away, she nodded. "Yes, very distracted," she said evenly.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, his years as an interrogator coming into play. "And what exactly has you distracted on such a glorious occasion?" he deadpanned.

"Just a strange dream," Daesha said, knowing that it would be pointless to lie. Best to just gloss over the truth. There was no need for him to know the content. His hands tightened slightly on her arms, and he inclined his head. He took a breath as if to speak again, but Daesha spoke first. "If you will excuse me, I need to prepare for the Senate." She stepped out of his grasp. "I will see you at the boarding ramp." Striding past him, she made sure to keep her gait unhurried. She had no need to run away from him. But even without looking back, Daesha could feel him watching her.


	2. Chapter 2

Kira, Daesha, and Scourge walked in silence down the long halls of the Senate. The guards nodded at them, many of them breaking into grins. Daesha almost smiled. It was truly a momentous day. With their victory, the future seemed limitless. She could almost imagine an end to this war. As they reached the entrance to the grand hall, Kira turned to look at her, a small smile slipping onto her face. Daesha returned it this time. Kira's presence in the Force was bright, and her excitement was almost palpable. Scourge, however, was another matter. He hadn't said a word to her since they left the ship. The whole time they had been walking down the Senate halls, however, she could feel his eyes boring into her back. His presence in the Force was guarded, his arms were crossed, and his face was carefully neutral. If he had been anyone else, Daesha would have guessed he were nervous.

The doors hissed open suddenly, breaking her out of such thoughts. They all stepped through the threshold and soon enough were at the podium. She and Kira climbed the stairs, but Scourge chose to remain a few meters behind. Daesha inclined her head to Master Satele, waiting for the grandmaster to speak.

"You saved our galaxy from destruction. The Emperor's death has turned the tide of this war," Master Satele said.

"Combined with our victory on Corellia and the damage inflicted on Drommund Kaas, the Sith are in chaos. It's glorious," Admiral Dabrin extrapolated.

"For too long, the Republic has feared the Sith Empire. But this victory has proven that they're not invincible," Daesha said. She felt a faint flair of anger from Scourge but chose to ignore it.

"You've raised the morale of every Republic soldier from here to Hoth. For the first time since the war started, we have the upper hand," the admiral replied. "For your actions on Corellia, General Var Suthra recommended you all receive the Crescent of Service. But you've earned more than that. It is my honor to present each of you with the Republic's highest award, the Cross of Glory." Daesha blinked in surprise. She had known that the Senate would recognize them, but to receive such a prestigious award was an opportunity few received.

"You will live forever as heroes of the Republic. Jedi Knight Kira Carsen, Sergeant Fideltin Rusk, T7-01, Doctor Archiban Kimble," Master Satele said.

"Archiban? Seriously?" Kira snorted, earning a few chuckles from those close enough to hear her. Even Master Satele smiled.

Doc, on the other hand, turned red and touched a hand nervously to his forehead. "Just call me Doc…please."

Turning back to the ceremony, Master Satele continued, though her eyes narrowed slightly. "Even you, Lord Scourge. Though you joined us for selfish reasons, you saved more lives than your own."

Daesha smirked, folding her hands innocently in front of her. "Scourge will be a Jedi before he knows it." Perhaps it was perverse of her, but the sharp flare of irritation she felt from him felt like good payback for his silent treatment.

"Do not count on that. I stay only until I am sure the Emperor left us no surprises," he retorted.

"And then there is you," Master Satele continued, coming around the podium to stand in front of her. "How do we even begin to account for the turns your life has taken since you first arrived on Tython? You embody what every Jedi strives to become. Your courage, commitment, and leadership have seen us through this dark time. From this day forth, you are no longer a Jedi Knight. You are a Jedi Master."

Daesha's mouth dropped open slightly before a wide smile cracked her face. "And here I thought you'd never get around to it."

"Be mindful of your emotions, Master. But I appreciate your honest enthusiasm," Master Satele reprimanded, although it was belayed by the smile on her face. "These are the moments we strive for, when the hope of victory becomes real. When we can see peace on the horizon. May the Force be with us," she finished, bowing to Daesha and the crowd.

As the crowd burst into applause, Daesha bowed again to her. "Thank you, Master Satele," she whispered. "I am truly honored and humbled."

Master Satele placed two fingers under her chin, lifting her head up. "You will make us proud, Daesha. Of that I have no doubt," Satele assured her before walking away to speak with Admiral Dabrin.

Kira and Doc hurried over to her. "If I may?" Doc asked, smiling broadly. When Daesha nodded, he pinned the Cross of Glory to her chest, just below her clavicle. "It looks beautiful, though I could just be seeing what's underneath."

"Do you really want to play this game, Archiban?" Daesha teased. "Because I can promise that you'll lose."

Doc's ears turned red with embarrassment and he looked down at his boots. "No, no, you win. I'll shut up, just don't – don't call me that, please," he pleaded.

"I promise," Daesha responded. "Congratulations to the both of you, as well. You've more than earned it."

"Just as long as that old creep is dead, that's good enough for me," Kira sighed.

"You know, Rusk was talking about going out to celebrate. Apparently there's this new bar called Club Nova. Some of the other grunts were telling him about it, and it's supposed to be very nice," Doc winked.

Kira rolled her eyes. Daesha wrinkled her nose. "Is 'bar' a new code name for 'strip club'?"

"No, this place is totally legit," Doc promised, holding up his hands. "Just a place to relax, unwind, and drink all the Nebula Drifters you can handle. Medic's honor."

"After that long flight back from Drommund Kaas, that actually sounds perfect," Kira said. "I'm in. What about you?"

"Well, if everyone else is going, I guess I'll tag along. It's hard to celebrate by yourself," Daesha said. Rusk came over to join them, T7 trailing along behind him.

"Are you both coming?" he asked. Kira and Daesha nodded. "Good. At least now, I'll have someone interesting to talk to. _Archiban_ here is a little dull when he's drunk." Kira giggled, and Doc's face turned red again.

"I'll see you all there," he muttered, turning on his heel and stalking away.

"Let me see if Scourge wants to come," Daesha said, turning to see that he was already gone. She frowned, turning back to Kira and Rusk.

"Well, apparently he had better things to do," Kira muttered.

"He's probably going back to the ship," Daesha said. "If I hurry, I'm sure I can still catch him."

"Why don't you just comm him?" Rusk asked.

"Because I know he'll just say no. Maybe if I can talk to him face to face, he'll actually come," she sighed.

"Daesha, if he wants to be alone, let him be alone," Kira said. "Besides, he's such a killjoy."

"I know, Kira, but without his help, I doubt this day ever would have happened. Whether we like it or not, his help was invaluable. He deserves to be a part of this celebration," she said.

"Well, when you see him, give him this," Rusk said, handing her another Cross of Glory. "He didn't even stay to accept it."

"I will. And I'll see both of you shortly, with or without him," Daesha promised, racing off down the hall.

* * *

She caught up to him three halls down. Daesha could tell when he felt her approach, since his shoulders stiffened slightly. Falling into step beside him, neither of them said anything until they were almost at the end of the corridor. "I have no desire to accompany you to this club," Scourge finally said, glancing down at her. "It hardly seems like a productive way to spend an evening."

Daesha glared up at him, understanding why Kira had advised her to leave him alone. Still, this was the eve of their victory, and she wouldn't feel right about letting him leave without even trying to stop him. "You forgot this," she responded, handing the medal out to him. Scourge looked down at it for several second before reluctantly taking it from her. Daesha tried to ignore how incredibly small it looked in his hand. He tucked it into one of the pouches at his waist, and they continued walking in silence. "How did you know about the club? You were gone before Rusk even mentioned it."

"I overheard Rusk and Kimble discussing it earlier. Although I'm surprised every Jedi on Coruscant cannot detect your plans, with how loudly you are projecting anticipation. It is hardly the type of conduct I would expect from a Jedi Master," he mocked. "I thought you had better control than that."

"At least as Jedi, we bother to learn control. With the exception of Praven, I have yet to see a Sith even try controlling their emotions," Daesha argued.

"Praven, indeed," Scourge scoffed. "He hardly qualifies as a Sith. He was taught in the same manner I was, to embrace his anger and feed off the fear of others. Yet, as a young man, he chose to chase honor instead of increasing his power. And as a Jedi, he chooses to meditate and follow the dictates of the Council instead of forging his own path. And to think, this is the life you choose to live and would have me live as well."

Daesha stopped in her tracks, crossing her arms when he turned back to face her. "Is that what's really bothering you? That I choose to hold onto the hope that eventually you might see the error of your ways? How is that any different from the many, many times you have tried to sway me to the dark side?"

Scourge stalked towards her until he was in her space, towering over her. Daesha mentally cursed, craning her neck back to look up into his face. "Many things bother me lately, Jedi. There are still a great number of things that you do not understand. But understand this: I helped you defeat the Emperor because I did not wish to see the galaxy annihilated. It only means that, unlike him, I did not fall to madness. It does not mean that I am some lost little akk dog that needs your pity! I have never sought the light. I will never seek the light. Once I am sure the Emperor is no longer a direct threat, I will leave. I neither need nor seek your friendship or that of the others. You and Kira constantly prattle about the light side, and I have no desire to hear it tonight," he snarled before stepping back.

As he started to turn away, Daesha grabbed his arm. Her temper flared, and his mouth turned up into a smirk. She was hit by the very strong urge to wipe it off his face. "You have made your point. But understand this, Scourge: your temper and attempts at intimidation won't change who I am. Whether you like it or not, you are my ally. I do consider you my friend, regardless of whether you return it or not. If you choose to cling to the dark side, I cannot forcefully convert you. But I will never stop hoping that you will embrace the light. There is light and dark in everyone, for such is the way of the Force. You have light inside, whether you choose to admit it or not."

He moved quickly, placing a hand under her chin and yanking her up onto the tips of her toes. "I could say the same of you, Hero. There is a well of untapped power in you, simply waiting for the day you are brave enough to use it. You would be so strong," he murmured.

"I already am strong," Daesha swallowed thickly, finding it hard to breathe in her current position.

"Indeed you are," Scourge chuckled, letting her back down. "You did well in killing the Emperor."

"Was that a compliment?" she asked, stunned.

"Yes, and well earned," he replied. "But do not become used to it."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Daesha responded. Silence stretched between them before Scourge finally spoke.

"I will see you at the ship," he said, turning away from her and heading down the halls of the Senate.

* * *

After comming Rusk for the coordinates of Club Nova, Daesha hailed an airtaxi and quickly made her way there. The club wasn't far from the Senate, only about a fifteen-minute flight. She found Kira outside, laughing with one of the bouncers. Daesha smiled; it had been too long since any of them had laughed. At her approach, Kira turned, her grin widening if it was possible. "You're finally here!" she exclaimed, fighting to be heard over the pounding bass music. "I take it Mr. Peppy didn't want to come?"

"You could say that," Daesha agreed, deciding it was better not to mention their philosophical…confrontation, for lack of a better term. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

"At least you tried," Kira shrugged before grabbing her hand and leading her into the club. "Don't let it ruin tonight; it's his loss. Besides, you should see Doc. He's already had three Nebula Drifters. His face is starting to turn red!"

As they walked further into Club Nova, Daesha had to strain to hear whatever her friend was saying. The sound system was pounding the latest popular hit, its electronic hooks and deep bass melding in an almost hypnotic way. The lights, quickly switching between every color in the electromagnetic spectrum, only added to the club's ambiance. The dance floor in the middle of the club was packed, the sweating bodies of at least five different species gyrating and swaying together. Daesha looked away quickly when she caught the intense yellow-green eyes of a tall Cathar. Luckily, they managed to reach their table at that moment.

Rusk nodded in acknowledgment when he saw her, holding up his glass. Doc took a few seconds longer to acknowledge her, almost spilling his own glass when he raised it. Kira jumped up on her stool, handing Daesha a shot as she sat down. Whatever the drink was, it was pink-purple and smelled like turpentine. Although she hadn't visited her family since she was fifteen, she remembered very specifically that her mother hadn't had any tolerance for alcohol. Her Master before Tython, Caden Coren, had also been very strict with it. She had never been allowed to drink on missions, and she had only been allowed one glass of Alderaani wine on her eighteenth lifeday. Daesha looked down at it, hesitating when Kira clinked her own glass against it.

"Cheers!" Kira said, downing her own shot in a single swallow. Daesha smiled nervously, taking a tiny sip of her own drink before choking. She coughed, trying to get rid of the taste. When she looked up, Kira, Doc, and Rusk were all staring at her in shock.

"What?" Daesha asked, setting her glass down.

"Hells, beautiful, everyone knows you don't drink a shot that way," Doc slurred. "Not unless you want to have it come right up again."

"Have you never had shots before?" Kira asked.

"My Master never allowed drinking. At least not until I was of age," Daesha explained. "Once that happened, I was transferred to Tython a month later. Most Jedi frown on heavy drinking during a war."

"As well they should. Alcohol lowers a squad's battle-readiness by almost thirty percent," Rusk interjected.

"Well, it's about time you learned, then," Kira smirked. "Tonight's the perfect night to get drunk. You'd better hurry up, or Doc's going to beat you."

Daesha smiled despite herself. "I don't think I'll be getting drunk. But if you could teach me how to drink a shot, I'd appreciate it."

Kira laughed. "The expression is 'take a shot'. It's not hard. You just throw the whole thing to the back of your mouth and swallow before you can think it over. Just think of it as Doc's cough syrup."

"Like this?" Daesha asked, raising the glass to her lips and tossing it back. Despite her best try, half of it landed on the middle of her tongue. She nearly gagged; the taste was even worse than the smell.

"Don't spit it out," Kira instructed quickly. "Just swallow."

Daesha did as instructed, swallowing the disgusting liquid. Her throat felt like it was on fire, almost as if she'd ingested lava. She wheezed, clutching at her throat and gasping for air. When she spoke, her voice sounded rough. "How was that?"

"Good for your first try," Kira said. "It just takes more practice." With that, she raised a hand, ordering another round. Although the first shot had been disgusting, Daesha found that the next two went down more easily. By the third, she couldn't even taste it anymore. And although her head felt slightly fuzzy and she was extremely warm, the sensation was not unpleasant.

About that time, Daesha felt a warm hand land on her shoulder. She turned in her chair, hoping to see Scourge's red gaze. She imagined that he would glance down at the three small glasses in front of her before smirking again. Undoubtedly, he would choose that moment to make some brilliantly scornful comment about Jedi and their excessive drinking. But the eyes looking down at her weren't red. They were a bright green, easily reflecting what little light the club had to offer. Although it took a moment, Daesha recognized the Cathar from earlier. He smiled down at her, stepping back a pace as she turned around fully.

"Madame Jedi, my name is Ronan Duro," the Cathar said, extending a hand.

"I'm Daesha Ven. It's a pleasure, Ronan," she replied, shaking his hand.

"Daesha Ven…the Tython Hero?" Ronan asked.

"I suppose you could call me that," Daesha nodded. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Well, I realize that you're here with friends, but would you care to dance?" he inquired, glancing between her companions.

"That is very generous, Ronan, but I'm afraid-" Daesha began before Kira cut her off.

"She would love to, Ronan," Kira interrupted. Leaning over, she whispered in Daesha's ear. "One dance is not going to break the Jedi Code. We can be all stuffy and boring the rest of the year. Tonight, we're here to celebrate."

Heat flooded her cheeks, and Daesha glanced up at Ronan. The Cathar was handsome, with an engaging smile and broad shoulders. It wasn't as if she were going to take him back to the ship, after all. Perhaps one dance wouldn't hurt. "I'd be honored," she said, hopping out of her seat and following him to the dance floor.

The pounding bass, sharp electronic hooks, and multicolored lights were even more overwhelming on the floor. Thankfully, it wasn't nearly as crowded as it had been. Ronan moved onto the floor first, starting to subtly gyrate his body in time to the music. His moves weren't overly lascivious, and for that Daesha was thankful. She stood awkwardly to the side, watching the other female dancers and trying to discern some pattern to their movements. Ronan held out a hand, and Daesha stepped closer to him. She stiffly began swaying her hips, trying to match his pace and rhythm. After a few moments, he smiled down at her. "I take it you don't dance very often?" he asked gently.

"Not in several years. And not well that time," Daesha laughed.

"It's not hard. Let me show you," Ronan offered, turning her back to his front and placing his hands high up on her hips. He began a simple circular motion, carefully guiding their movements in time to the music. After that, he dipped his knees slightly, continuing the gyrations he had been doing earlier. As the tempo increased, he combined the two motions, still holding her loosely. When the song changed, he released her hips; and Daesha had little trouble following him. They continued dancing that way for another song, and then Daesha turned to face him. He was grinning, his pupils wide from the low light and alcohol. Daesha almost smiled. Although the dance moves were suggestive, this was actually quite fun. Ronan began the gyrating motion again, and she matched herself to his rhythm. The lights chose that moment to flare and then drop dramatically, and Daesha had to fight to keep her orientation. When the lights finally evened out again, Daesha glanced up at Ronan. He was watching her intently. She stopped momentarily, about to inquire if he was alright. Placing a hand along one side of her face, he leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. Daesha shivered in both delight and revulsion. His lips were soft and pliant, but the acidic smell of some alcohol was heavy in his breath. "I just wanted to thank you for the dance. It's been a pleasure," he said quickly.

"I thank you," Daesha smiled, squeezing the hand along her face. "The pleasure has been all mi-" A hand on her shoulder cut her off. She turned to see Rusk glaring at Ronan. His other hand landed on her other shoulder, and she was pulled back. "What's wrong, Sergeant?" she asked.

Rusk leaned down by her ear. "You're needed, Master Jedi," he said, motioning toward their table with his head. Daesha glanced back and did a double take. There, leaning against the table with his arms crossed, was Scourge. Turning back to Ronan, she smiled and nodded in parting. Rusk kept a hand on her shoulder until they were at the table, and for that Daesha was grateful. The lights made balancing difficult.

Scourge said nothing once Daesha walked up to him. Instead, his gaze went from the three shot glasses to the dance floor. His perpetual frown only deepened when, Daesha guessed, he spied Ronan. "Did I interrupt your search for a bedmate, Jedi?" he asked. The question was spoken softly, but his words carried a lethal weight. Daesha glared up at him, refusing to dignify the question with a response. His glare only intensified, and her temper began to rise. Blast it all to the nine Corellian hells…

"Why are you here?" Daesha snapped.

He studied her a moment before responding. "Master Shan sent a holomessage. Apparently, there is some business on Tython that requires your attention. She requested that we leave no later than noon tomorrow. I doubted she would enjoy having to retransmit the message while you were recovering from a hangover. The ship is prepared; we leave tonight."

"Since when do you care about my obeying the Council?" Daesha asked, crossing her arms.

Scourge's nostrils flared and he pulled his shoulders back. "I hardly care. I was merely relaying a message," he spat. Daesha opened her mouth to argue, but Rusk squeezed her shoulder tightly.

"We should leave. Kira and Doc are already on their way back to the ship, and the Jedi Council are not people to keep waiting," he advised.

"It is of course as you say," Daesha nodded. Turning back to Scourge, she met his glare with her own. "Lead the way, Sith."


	3. Chapter 3

Scourge sat on the bridge, absently toying with one of the three vibro-shivs he always carried. He glanced out the glass, watching as the star striations flashed by the viewport. If he closed his eyes, he could almost recall the color that made up hyperspace, somewhere between a medium violet and pale blue, perhaps. It had been so long that it was difficult to remember. The blade of the shiv was reflective, although the only thing his eyes registered were shades of gray. The hilt, Daesha had once told him, was a light pink color with yellow stripes. He knew that to be a lie. Or at least he hoped so, for her sake. She had given it to him after Belsavis, hoping to thank him for his help. He had told her he hardly needed it, quickly retrieving the matching pair he kept strapped to his thigh. She had simply rolled her eyes and slipped the knife into the top of one of his boots.

He ran the shiv hard along one of his cheeks. As usual, however, he felt no pain. When he touched his hand to his cheek, it came back dark with blood. Scourge sighed, wiping the shiv off and slipping it back into his boot. He left the wound alone, knowing that it would heal naturally within minutes. Alone with his thoughts at last, he had to face the issue that had truly been bothering him for the last three days. His curse had not been broken. He still felt nothing, and that was troubling. It was troubling not only because he had allowed himself to hope but also because of what it meant for the galaxy at large. If his curse had not been lifted at the Emperor's death, did that mean he was still alive? If he were honest with himself, Scourge could not tell. After he had pledged his loyalty to Daesha, his link to the Emperor had been almost completely severed. On the first night, it had been a relief beyond imagining. If Scourge had been able to feel joy, he knew that he would have been weeping from it. As the months had passed, he had learned to live with the silence inside his head. Being half a galaxy away from his insane former Master helped with that. He had _almost_ learned to cope with the sickening amounts of the light he felt when around Daesha and her Jedi. To be back on Drommund Kaas, even if only for a few hours, had been a mercy. Or at least it had been until he felt the brush of the Emperor's mind again. The cold fury emanating from the temple had made Scourge's stomach churn, and he had idly wondered if there was anywhere in the galaxy he could go to avoid nausea. Since Daesha had killed the Emperor, he had felt no flares of his former Master. However, if he stretched out into the Force, he knew better than to think all was well. The Emperor was nothing if not persistent. Scourge could feel a darkness at the edges of his conscious; it was elusive and weak, but it was also present.

He sat up as he felt a presence approaching. The steadfast, stoic energy let him know immediately that it was Sergeant Rusk. Even if he hadn't been able to tell through the Force, he knew that Kira, Daesha, and the doctor were all passed out in their cabins, trying to sleep off their alcohol before the ship reached Tython. Scourge smiled to himself. He would hate to be the doctor when he woke up. Kira had practically dragged him back to the ship.

"I see I'm not the only one who couldn't sleep," Rusk said from behind him.

Scourge turned around, motioning to the empty seat beside him. "Indeed not, Sergeant."

Rusk said nothing as he sat, choosing to watch hyperspace as it flew past them. He took out his handheld blasters, taking them apart without even looking down. He began cleaning them with military precision and speed. Scourge chuckled. If the Imperial army had more soldiers like Rusk, the Republic might have actually fallen. He was nothing if not a model soldier, thoroughly brave and professional. They sat in silence for almost half an hour as Rusk went through all his weapons. When he finally did speak, Scourge almost missed it. "You owe Master Ven an apology," he said, his voice low and relaxed.

Scourge raised an eye ridge, surprised by the subject of their conversation. "Do I now?"

Rusk clipped the blaster carbine back onto one of his heavy-duty guns. He turned to face Scourge before slipping it back into its holster at his hip. "Yes. Your comment about her searching for a bedmate was extremely unprofessional," he said.

Scourge leaned back in the pilot's chair, tipping it slightly. "You were the one who pulled her away from that Cathar. You were thinking the same thing."

Rusk looked down, his face carefully neutral. "Master Ven is legally of age. If she wished to be intimate with a man, that is her right. However, I refused to allow it when she was obviously under the effects of alcohol."

"She's hardly of age," Scourge snorted. "She is barely out of diapers and training sabers."

Rusk's mouth pulled up and he looked away, stifling a laugh. "She is an extraordinary warrior and a skilled diplomat," he finally said. "And she holds the rank of Jedi Master now. She has also gone out of her way to accommodate you and your vision, Lord Scourge. She deserves your respect."

"Master Ven does not seek my respect, just as I do not seek hers," Scourge said. "I must admit, she is skilled. It is a true pity that she was born in Republic space. Had she been born on Korriban or Drommund Kaas, she would have made a promising acolyte."

"Hardly what she would enjoy hearing," Rusk replied.

"Perhaps. But it is no less true," Scourge shrugged. Rusk turned back to the viewport, and they sat together in silence for another half hour. Finally, Rusk retired to his cabin to sleep. Scourge sat by himself for an hour before retreating back to the crew cabins. If he was going to be stranded on Tython with thousands of Jedi, he knew that he would need the mental fortitude that only sleep could provide. When he passed Daesha's door, he placed a hand on it. Her power was palpable even asleep, and he found himself drawn to it. Shielding himself in the dark side, he quietly slipped inside her quarters. Like most Jedi quarters, it was sparse and clean. A handful of trinkets and a datapad littered her desk. Her spare robes and sleep clothes were tucked inside the drawers lining one wall. She herself was turned on her side towards him, one hand under her pillow and the other resting on her hip.

He strode over to her bed, kneeling down beside it to study her. He had little fear that she would wake to catch him; he had centuries of practice shielding his presence. Her long, dark hair was down, most of it spread out behind her neck. A few strands had fallen forward onto her chest and were rising and falling with her breath. Her long lashes rested against her skin, her eyes darting this way and that under her eyelids as she dreamed. She had a scar under one eye, a testament to her days before Tython. Her cheekbones were high, and her face was oval-shaped. He closed his eyes, recalling the vision he had staked everything on. Her eyes were a dark brown, almost black, and her hair was only a shade darker. Her skin had a slight tan. Though he guessed, judging by the darker shades under her eyes, that she had not been sleeping well. He reached a hand out, sending a strong sleep suggestion into her mind. She stirred slightly and moaned before settling down.

For some reason, the sound sent his heart pounding into his chest. He had seen her cleave enemies in two with her lightsaber; he had watched when she took command of entire armies and began barking orders; and he had seen her with half her armor torn away, blood dripping from her wounds while they limped back to base. He had seen her talk fallen Jedi Masters and former Sith Lords away from the darkness; he had heard the conviction and compassion in their debates; he had walked away from those same debates scorning her devotion to the light. Yet, the simple rise and fall of her chest, the curve of her hip, and the soft sigh that had escaped her were making his mouth dry. He suddenly understood why he had wanted to take his lightsaber and stab it through the Cathar's face. He finally had to acknowledge that what had burned in his chest as he'd mocked her had not been anger. Well, not only anger. In a different man, it would have been jealousy. Scourge stared down at her face. She had been the focus of his plans for many centuries. Now that those plans had been completed, it would not necessarily mean that his interest was abated. He stood slowly before making his way back to her door. He slipped out it and turned into his own cabin.


	4. Chapter 4

When Daesha entered the galley the next morning, she already knew what she would find. Sergeant Rusk was sitting at the bar, his attention fixed more on his datapad than the poached nuna eggs in front of him. Kira had devoured half of her breakfast and was downing a glass of muja juice. Doc, however, was slumped over the table with what appeared to be his third cup of caff. Daesha placed a hand over her mouth, trying not to smile. With the exception of a mild headache, she hadn't had any symptoms left over from last night. After the short, tense ride back to the ship, Rusk had helped her to her cabin and left. She'd had the presence of mind to change into sleepclothes and collapse into bed, but after that she remembered nothing. When she woke that morning, Daesha had decided it would be a very long time before she drank again. Doc, however, had been inebriated even before she had begun dancing with Ronan. He'd had at least five Nebula Drifters, three shots, and one very large pink concoction with a tiny umbrella. Honestly, it was a miracle Kira had managed to get him to the ship at all.

Kira looked up and spotted her. "Morning," she greeted cheerfully, cleaning the last of the food off her plate. "How do you feel?"

Daesha walked into the galley and poured a cup of caff with cream before sitting down beside her and Doc. "A slight headache, but that's all. How about you?" she asked.

"Never better," Kira shrugged. "I learned to handle my liquor early." Daesha raised an eyebrow. Kira squirmed and looked down. "When you spend ten years on the streets, you learn to take what distractions you can get."

"Well, thank you for the celebration last night. It was very entertaining," Daesha said.

"I saw you kiss that Cathar as we were leaving," Kira snorted. "I'll bet _that_ was entertaining."

Daesha smiled and looked down, noticing the way Rusk's shoulders stiffened at the mention of that incident. She lifted the caff to her lips. "I'll have you know he kissed me first," she said after taking a drink. "And it was only a kiss. Nothing else happened."

"Well, not after Scourge got there," Kira huffed. "Some days, I think he has a radar for ruining moments."

"Even if he hadn't come then, nothing would have happened between Ronan and me. Such behavior would have hardly been appropriate," Daesha smiled. She turned her gaze to Rusk. "And I wanted to thank you for the intervention, Sergeant. I was slightly inebriated last night, and I appreciate your concern."

"I'm always here to serve, Master Jedi," Rusk assured her before taking a bite of his eggs.

"Can you all please stop talking?" Doc moaned, clasping his head. "It already feels like a herd of banthas is in my head. I don't need to hear about who saved who."

"Doc, you're the one who chose to drink so much," Daesha reminded him.

"Why didn't anyone try to stop me?" he groaned, laying his forehead on the cool tabletop.

"Because we didn't want to miss this," Kira laughed. Daesha gave her a mock-reprimanding look before taking Doc's mug to refill it. She sat it down next to his hand, taking care not to be too loud.

"Doc, next time you suggest something like that, we'll lock you in the medbay. Does that sound all right?" Daesha chuckled softly.

Doc looked up at her blearily for a moment before a grin split his face. "Only if you're gonna lock yourself in with me," he winked. Daesha shook her head and pushed the caff at him.

"Do you never think of anything else?" Kira scoffed.

"Only on the battlefield," Doc said. "When we're off it, I've got to keep myself ready for the ladies." He slowly took a sip of the caff.

"The only thing you're ready for is a rehab station," Rusk shot back, never even looking over at them.

"Strange. I was thinking the nearest refuse heap," Scourge said from the doorway. Kira barked out a laugh, and Daesha fixed her glare on Scourge. It took Doc a moment to process the insult, but afterwards he made an offensive gesture in Scourge's general direction.

"For once, can you not insult a member of this crew as a way to start your morning?" Daesha asked through gritted teeth.

"If he did not make it so easy, I wouldn't," Scourge chuckled, pouring a cup of caff. He drank it straight, and Daesha's eyes narrowed suspiciously. No sane being would ever drink caff straight, and she began to wonder. If he continued drinking it that way, did it mean that he still couldn't taste it? She remembered his comment last night. _There are many things that bother me lately, Jedi_. What precisely had that meant? Since the Emperor's death, he had become increasingly agitated. What if his curse had remained? Her heart sank at the thought. No one, not even Scourge, deserved to remain bound in that way forever.

"Are you hungry?" she asked softly, knowing that his answer would reveal the truth.

By the way he stilled abruptly, he knew it too. No doubt, he could feel the compassionate nature of her thoughts. She felt his irritation as he looked over his shoulder at her. His face was neutral, but she knew better. "No. I am not hungry," he said solemnly.

"A pity," Daesha replied. "Kira is a very good cook."

"That's debatable," Doc snorted. Kira shot him a glare and stole his mug.

"You never said why Master Satele contacted us last night," Daesha said quickly, hoping to focus everyone before a food fight started.

"She did not say," Scourge shook his head. "She only said that your presence was required on Tython as soon as possible. Apparently it was a matter of some importance." He took another sip of the caff, and Daesha shuddered in revulsion. Yes, he couldn't taste it. That had to be the explanation.

"I wonder what could be wrong to pull us away from Coruscant so soon," Kira said.

"You'll get your answer soon," Rusk said. "We should be dropping out of hyperspace in an hour."

"That doesn't leave much time to get ready," Kira said, motioning with her head towards Doc. Daesha only then realized that he was wearing the same clothes from the night before.

"Perhaps it would be better if Doc stayed on the ship," Daesha suggested. "This is undoubtedly Jedi business. There's no need to put extra strain on him if he's already feeling miserable."

"I'm going to be hugging that fresher all day," Doc moaned, snatching his caff back from Kira. "You don't have to worry about me."

"I'm gonna clean up before you get in there and lock the door, then," Kira said, rising to leave the room. Daesha rose and cleared the extra plates and cups on the table, placing them in the sink.

"Well, hurry. I need to use it too," Daesha said, walking after her. "I smell like smoke and alcohol."

"You could always shower together and save time," Doc laughed. That stopped them in their tracks. Daesha glowered at him, even though his back was turned to her. Kira used the Force to levitate and throw a small kiwi at his head before stalking out. Daesha looked over to Rusk for support, only to find one eye ridge raised in curiosity. Scourge studied her head to toe before hiding a smirk behind his mug.

"Honestly," Daesha muttered, using the Force to throw the entire bowl of kiwis at Doc while she walked away.

* * *

The Jedi Temple of Tython was not nearly as large as the temple remains on Coruscant. But it was quiet and peaceful. Daesha had always preferred Tython to Coruscant. It was difficult to sleep in the capital; the world was awash with energy every hour of the day. The Force energies there were as varied as one could imagine. Daesha could feel everything from the deadliest gangster's ambitions to the shyest schoolgirl's affections just by walking down a single street. Tython, however, was the home of the Jedi. The Temple itself felt both asleep and awake. It felt asleep in the supernatural calm it exuded. Just at first glance, Kira had once told her, she had been able to tell that it was a place wholly surrendered to the light. The Force felt good here, like a warm blanket drawn over you. The effect was almost hypnotic, and Daesha felt herself relax instinctively at the sight of her home. However, that was not to say that the Temple was a place of inaction. Even as she and Kira walked into the entrance, Daesha could feel the raw power that exuded from the walls. The light side was strong here, its warmth and heat giving energy to the occupants even as it relaxed their minds and bodies. She was quite surprised that Scourge hated this place so much. For a Sith, it was odd that he wouldn't be attracted to a source of such incredible power, even if it were the opposite of what he used. But then, perhaps he did not consider the light side strong. Daesha shook her head. If only he had been born in the Republic. Had he been raised as a Jedi, he could have been such a force for good. Even now, he could become so much more powerful, if only he would embrace the light.

"What's wrong?" Kira asked beside her.

Daesha glanced over at her friend and smiled wanly. "Nothing," she replied, hoping to brush the question off.

Kira had never been easy to fool, though. She closed her eyes for a moment as they continued walking. "I can sense something troubling you, Master."

"Kira, you don't have to call me that," Daesha chuckled. "You have been a Knight for almost a year now."

"Old habits and all," Kira shrugged. "And don't try to change the subject."

"I never could hide things from you, could I?" Daesha asked.

"Not after this long," she shook her head.

"I'm worried for Scourge," Daesha finally admitted. "Since the Emperor's death, he had become increasingly irritable."

"That's nothing new," Kira scoffed. "He's always angry about something."

Daesha smiled at the truth of that statement. "Not like this. It's not just anger. I can feel disappointment in him, as well. It's incredibly faint, but it's there," she said.

"I thought he couldn't feel emotions anymore," Kira replied.

"Whatever I felt on the return trip from Drommund Kaas was very faint. So faint, in fact, that he may not have even realized what it was. He is so used to feeling anger that perhaps he mistook his disappointment for it. It is the source of a Sith's power, after all," Daesha said.

"What do you think it meant?" Kira asked after a moment.

"I think perhaps it means that his curse remains," Daesha admitted. "I know he was not disappointed with the Emperor's death. Only by my choice to save Doc."

Kira thought over that before replying. "If his curse isn't gone, does that mean that the Emperor's still alive?"

Daesha shuddered at the thought. "I don't see how he could still be alive, Kira. I…I gave into my anger when I faced him. I realize that as Jedi, killing should be our last resort; but I could see no other course of action. I felt no remorse in him, no compassion, nothing. He was utterly without emotion. He never could have been turned back to the light. I killed him with my own hand; I dropped a stone spire on top of him! No one could have survived that."

"You don't have to defend your actions to me, Master. I'm glad the old creep is dead," Kira smiled. "Still, it is confusing. But there is always the chance that the Emperor is dead and Scourge is just being himself. And even if his curse has remained, he chose that life for himself."

"I know that, Kira," Daesha sighed. "And I realize that were the situation reversed, he would care nothing for my plight. But that is the difference between us. I'm a Jedi. Compassion is central to my life…and I do care."

"Perhaps, after this is all finished, we can talk with Master Satele and the Council. Maybe they can help him," Kira suggested.

"Do you really think they would help a Sith?" Daesha asked.

"They've helped Sajar and Praven," Kira reminded her. "I'd think they would be eager to make Scourge their ultimate conquest."

"Hardly something he would appreciate," Daesha laughed. "And you must remember that the others were actually repentant."

"That is true. It might take some convincing on both sides," Kira sighed. "But if it meant getting rid of that curse, Scourge would take help from whoever offered it. Besides, you just saved the galaxy. I'd say that the Council owes you a favor."

"I'm not ready to stoop to blackmail just yet," Daesha grinned as they reached the Council chamber. The doors slid open to admit them. "For the moment, let's see what pulled us away from Club Nova."

"You mean what pulled you away from that Cathar," Kira chuckled. Daesha sighed as they entered. The Council Chamber was large, with seven chairs arranged around a central round table. A hologram of Master Satele sat in one chair, while Master Kiwiiks and Master Kaeden sat in the others. Daesha was disappointed that Master Braga wasn't there, but that was not unexpected. It had only been about two months since his redemption to the light, and she knew he would be keeping a low profile. His spirit, as well as his pride, had been gravely wounded. But at least he was alive and dedicated to the Jedi once more. Daesha and Kira bowed respectfully, waiting for the Council to speak.

"It is good to see you arrived on Tython safely. I apologize for taking you away from your celebration," Master Satele said. "However, the situation has become desperate."

"What exactly is the situation?" Daesha asked.

"As you know, Sajar returned to the Order after Quesh. When we learned what he had done, the Council was disappointed. However, we allowed him to continue his training, with strict supervision. When he heard of Master Braga's fall, Sajar became lost. I'm afraid we had to place him on a suicide watch. When Master Braga returned, he seemed to lose his desire for death. We allowed him to visit Master Braga several times, hoping that perhaps their shared experiences would help them both heal. It worked, at least until the Emperor's death. Master Braga took the news quite well, proving that he is recovering quickly. Sajar…didn't. When he heard the news, he became unresponsive. The healers could do nothing. Even Master Braga couldn't. He's been staring at the wall of his quarters for almost three days. He hasn't eaten or slept. The healers were forced to provide intravenous fluids to prevent dehydration. Yesterday, one of the healers contacted me. Master Braga finally managed to break through to him, but only for a few seconds. The only thing Sajar would say was your name. He needs your help," Master Satele explained.

"Of course I'll help him," Daesha said. "Just tell me where to go."

"Master Kiwiiks will escort you there momentarily," Master Satele replied. "After you have spoken with him, there is another matter you must attend to."

"Master?" Daesha asked in confusion.

"Leeha Narezz has requested to see you about a personal matter. I pressed, but she insisted on speaking with you," Master Satele explained.

"Leeha is a friend. I will do anything in my power to help her," Daesha smiled.

"As well you should. But I fear Sajar is the more critical of the two situations," Master Kiwiiks interjected.

"Of course," Daesha said, inclining her head slightly. "Please, take me to him."

* * *

Sajar was sitting on his bed, staring at the empty wall across from him. He made no move to acknowledge Daesha when she entered. "Hello, Sajar," she greeted, moving slowly towards him. He only blinked once, his gaze still vacant. "How are you?" Daesha asked, sitting down beside him. He did not reply. Daesha relaxed, leaning forward and resting her chin in her hands. "They tell me you have not eaten or slept. Why is that?" Still no response. Daesha waited a few minutes, studying him. His appearance had changed. Sajar was paler, his eyes beginning to appear sunken. There were large dark circles under them. He was so far from the man she'd encountered on Quesh that Daesha hardly recognized him. His green eyes were hollow, no longer holding the anguish and remorse that seemed to define him. Instead, they held nothing. That was the most troubling thing of all. Daesha knew how Sajar had suffered during his time as Jedi, constantly trying to pay for his past while escaping his darker tendencies. It was a noble battle, but one she knew he never felt was finished. The situation on Quesh had not helped, and neither had Master Braga's fall. Still, with the Emperor dead, he should have been relieved. Yet here they were. She decided to try a different tactic than questioning him.

"I've been very busy for the last few months, Sajar. My travels have taken me from Belsavis to Drommund Kaas." At the name, he flinched. Daesha smiled grimly. Some progress was better than none. "It has made me very tired. There was a campaign on Corellia, and I have not been able to sleep well since then. Many good soldiers and civilians died, and I feel responsible some days. If only I could have gotten there sooner, could I have saved them? If only I had relocated my troops to different areas, would some of them still be alive? It is a hard burden to bear…but in the end, we were victorious. Corellia was saved.

"After that, I only had a short rest before being sent to Drommund Kaas. I have never been to a place so steeped in the dark side. It made my skin crawl. My bones felt hollow and cold. I wonder sometimes how you managed to survive living there for so long. I doubt I would be strong enough to. My team and I were tasked to eliminate the Emperor while the Republic fleet occupied the Imperial navy. It was a very hard-won victory, and we barely survived. The Force was with us, though; and we managed to defeat the Emperor.

"He was…beyond anything I could have imagined. Even Scourge's training couldn't have truly prepared me. I have fought many Sith before. I have felt their passion and anger, their fear and frustration. But until I faced him, I had never realized the depth of darkness. He was like a void. There was no passion, no anger, and no fear in him. There was only…oblivion. I shudder to think of what might have happened had we failed. He would have wrought such destruction…consumed everything," Daesha sighed. "I thank the Force that it is over."

"How did it feel when you killed him?" Sajar asked suddenly, his voice hoarse and raspy.

Daesha grinned and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It was like a kilo weight was lifted off each shoulder. The dark side was in chaos. The temple shuddered and shook at his passing. All the darkness of his Empire was challenged by a small flicker of light, and that was worth all the sacrifices we have made," she smiled.

Sajar turned to her, his eyes searching hers. She felt the faint probing of the Force and opened her mind up to him. His eyes widened at what he found. "You gave into your anger when you killed him," he whispered. "You brushed the darkness."

Daesha looked down. "I am not perfect, Sajar. No one is. The Emperor was dangerous; and yes, I did embrace my anger when I killed him. It was…exhilarating. The bloodlust made me feel invincible. The power was intoxicating."

"Few Jedi understand as you do," Sajar murmured. "The strength of the dark side is addictive."

"It is powerful," Daesha agreed. "But the light is more so."

Sajar nodded. "The dark side is faster. The light is harder to follow; the results do not manifest themselves as quickly. So many Sith refuse to believe that the light is as powerful, merely because they are too impatient to seek that power. " Daesha paused, her mind flying to Scourge. That was exactly how he thought.

"If you know this, why have you become despondent since the Emperor's death? Now is the time to begin anew, Sajar. You have a clean slate now. The Emperor can no longer influence you, in any way. Yet, you have isolated yourself for almost three days; you have worried Master Braga greatly. Why could I help you when he couldn't?"

Sajar glanced down at the floor, blushing slightly. "My regard for Master Braga is not called into question," he insisted. "He will forever be my Master and have my deepest respect. But…when I learned of the Emperor's death, I had the most horrible vision. I saw you standing over the Emperor, clutching a crown. Lord Scourge was standing behind you, and he reached out his hand to take it. But you refused him. Instead, you placed the crown on your own head. Your eyes became black like coals. Your skin turned the color of snow. The darkness consumed you from within. I saw Drommund Kaas and Korriban ablaze. Coruscant and Tython were the next to fall. You did not consume the galaxy as the Emperor planned to. You burned it." Daesha was silent, taking his confession in. It chilled her to her core to hear someone else talk about her darkest fantasies. They only came to her in her lowest moments, usually after battles, when she sometimes wondered if the galaxy was even worth saving. And even then, she quashed them with an iron will. Still, they were proof that she wasn't as righteous as everyone seemed to believe these days. "I just…I didn't know what to think. I was in shock. Master Braga saved me on Dantooine. The transition from Sith to Jedi has been so painful. But nothing I endured rivaled Master Braga's fall. He was the Jedi's finest in my eyes, and he fell. If he could succumb to the dark side, then no one was immune. I needed to see for myself that you had not become what you sought to destroy."

Daesha took his hand in hers. "Look at me, Sajar. I wear no crown. I seek no power. Drommund Kaas and Korriban will fall from within, not by my hand. Coruscant and Tython will always be my masters, never my servants."

"I can see that now," Sajar admitted. He gripped her hand tightly. "I apologize for whatever trouble I may have caused you. But rest assured, my devotion to the Jedi Order need never be questioned."

"That is good to hear," Daesha agreed. "Come, let's eat and celebrate. The Emperor is dead. There is no need for us to share the same fate. Let us _live_ until we can no longer draw breath."

"You are right, of course," Sajar smiled. "Let us hurry, for I am very hungry." Daesha couldn't help the laugh that escaped her.


	5. Chapter 5

After making sure that Sajar was eating (and making him promise to bathe and sleep), Daesha had reported to the Council. They had been relieved to hear he was doing well and had promised to update her of his progress. They had also given Daesha and her crew a week of R and R, to be spent as they saw fit. Kira's presence in the Force had surged with anticipation, her face splitting into a large grin. Daesha was honestly surprised she hadn't been bouncing in place. Master Kiwiiks had even smiled at that. Once the Council had adjourned, Kira had trailed after Master Kiwiiks, eager to catch up with her. Daesha had chosen to seek out Leeha Narezz, whose door she was standing in front of now. She reached out to knock when the door slid open. Leeha's black eyes lit up, and she pulled Daesha into a fierce embrace. Daesha stood still for a moment, surprised, before returning it. Leeha wasn't usually so aggressive. "Thank the Force you are here," Leeha whispered in her ear.

"It's good to see you too, Leeha," Daesha said, awkwardly patting her friend's back. What in the name of the Force was going on? Leeha was positively buzzing with energy, her emotional state switching back and forth between panicked and joyous. "What is the matter? Are you well?" Daesha asked.

"That remains to be seen," Leeha admitted, pulling back. "But this is not a discussion to have in public. Please, come in." Daesha complied, and the doors whooshed shut behind her. Leeha smiled nervously, walking back into her quarters. She gestured at the couch, and Daesha sat. Leeha handed her a cup of tea, taking another cup for herself with shaking fingers. She paced along the length of the room, almost spilling the drink. Her emotional state switched back to panic, and Daesha sat forward. Leeha set her tea down on the caff table and placed a hand to her forehead. Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. Daesha's heart rate quickened. What was going on?

"Leeha, what is the matter? You're beginning to seriously worry me," Daesha said.

"I'm sorry, Daesha. Do you…do you remember when the Emperor's hold on me was broken?" Daesha nodded. "Jomar and I came back to Tython, and you were gracious enough to keep our secret."

Daesha held up a hand, stopping her momentarily. "Leeha, it was none of my business. If your love doesn't interfere with your commitment to the Jedi, it is not my place to reveal it to the Council."

"I know that, but still," she said, looking down and clasping her hands. "I've always wanted to thank you for not betraying our confidence. Well…Jomar has been helping me with moving past what the Emperor did, what he made me do. He violated my mind and spirit; it's been the most difficult experience of my life, trying to move on. About a month ago, Jomar and I were sparring in one of the far salles by the forest. The moons were out; the night was balmy; and we were both high from the adrenaline in our veins. Somehow, we ended up practicing hand to hand combat. Well, I ended up pinning him; I actually won the match," Leeha laughed. "He said he was proud, and he kissed me. I couldn't stop kissing him; and the next things I knew, he had _me_ pinned. We…expressed our emotions. Several times," Leeha grinned, her cheeks turning bright red from embarrassment.

Daesha smirked and looked down. "Leeha, that is to be expected," she finally said. "But I don't know why you're telling me this."

"About a week ago, I began to feel very sick," Leeha said. "At first, I thought it was a virus, but it hadn't gone away, even with use of the Force. I journeyed to Kalikori Village two days ago, hoping that perhaps the Twi'leks could help me. Their healers ran some tests, and confirmed what I had begun to suspect. Daesha, I'm pregnant."

Daesha sat still for a moment, shocked. "Pregnant?" she finally managed.

"Yes," Leeha smiled, placing a hand over her stomach. "Exactly a month, actually."

"Leeha, that is wonderful!" Daesha gushed, standing and crossing over to her friend. She placed her hand over Leeha's, reaching out with the Force. Although it was faint, she could feel the life underneath their palms. Leeha grinned, tears slipping from her eyes. She wiped them away before her presence suddenly changed, becoming fearful again. Her bottom lip trembled, and she looked down. "You are conflicted," Daesha guessed.

"Yes," Leeha sniffled. "I don't know what to do. When the Council learns of this, I will be expelled. If I name the father, Jomar will be as well. I haven't even told him yet!"

"Where is he?" Daesha asked. "Can't you comm him?"

Leeha shook her head. "Not without a secure holoterminal. He is offworld now, on Corellia to help in the refugee camps. He should be back within two weeks. When I heard that you were coming to Tython, I almost cried from relief. I had to tell someone, and I knew you were the only Jedi who knew our secret."

Daesha nodded in understanding. "That is why you were so eager to see me."

"Yes," Leeha whispered. "I just…needed a friend."

"You can always come to me for help," Daesha promised, squeezing her shoulder. Leeha smiled up at her, tears falling from her eyes again. "Why don't you spend the night on my ship? You can contact Jomar from my cabin. My sergeant made a few 'special modifications' to one of my comm units. It's untraceable, so you wouldn't have to worry."

"You truly wouldn't mind?" Leeha asked hopefully. She wiped the tears out of her eyes again.

"Of course not," Daesha assured. "This is a moment for joy, not sadness."

* * *

Scourge woke to the sound of soft crying. At first, he thought he was dreaming; but as he focused, the sound became more pronounced. His curiosity got the better of him and he rose, pulling on a thin gray shirt and pair of sleep pants. He rubbed a hand over his face and lumbered out into the hall, using the Force to find the disturbance. Sergeant Rusk and Doctor Kimble had long since gone to sleep, having spent most of their day playing sabacc and doing target practice outside the ship. He couldn't sense Kira, and he supposed she was sleeping at the Temple. That only left Daesha. He stopped outside her door, wondering. It was unlike her to give in to such emotion. He reached out into the Force and sensed another presence in the room. Its emotional state was in flux, leaping between joy and fear every few minutes. Scourge turned away to return to his cabin before hesitating. He knew that the sharp changes in energy would keep him up all night. Reaching out with his mind, he began sending powerful sleep suggestions to the other presence, making sure to keep his own presence shielded. A few minutes later, the weeping died down slightly. After another ten minutes or so, it stopped entirely. He knocked on the door, knowing that whoever the other person was, they would be asleep. Daesha took a few moments to answer, but she eventually came out. Scourge raised an eye ridge at her appearance. Her hair was in a sloppy braid; she was dressed only in shorts and a tank top; and there was a huge wet spot just above her left breast, no doubt from whoever had been crying.

"Can I help you, Scourge?" she asked.

"I was awakened by your friend, I am presuming," he said, crossing his arms. "I trust that whoever it is has finally fallen to sleep."

"So it was you," she deduced, mimicking his posture. Scourge was surprised by the sudden protectiveness he felt drifting off of her. "Well, I suppose she would thank you if she could."

"She?" Scourge chuckled. "First Kira and now this mystery woman…and here I thought that the Jedi practiced celibacy."

Daesha's glare vaguely reminded him of her time as a Sith. "I'd expect that comment more from Doc than you. Leeha needed my help, and I gave it to her," she said.

"Leeha Narezz?" Scourge repeated. "The Nautolan from Master Braga's strike team?"

"Yes," Daesha nodded. "But more importantly tonight, a friend."

"What exactly did she need your help with?" Scourge asked. "From the feelings of fear, I take it she did something against your Jedi Code."

"It is a personal matter," Daesha responded. "She strayed from the Code. But I will help her in whatever ways I can."

"I will never understand your singular drive to save every being in this galaxy. You waste your time by helping those who aren't worthy," Scourge muttered.

"How is Leeha unworthy of my help?" Daesha asked. "Every being in the galaxy needs help from time to time. The point of existing is to try to help as many as you can."

"You are wrong, Jedi. Most of the problems in this galaxy are caused by those same beings' stupidity. You waste your own life energy trying to save them from a fate that they brought upon themselves," he argued. "I remember that quite well from the first time we met. You spent the entire conversation trying to justify the Council traitor's weakness and cowardice."

"And yet look at what _Sajar_ has accomplished," Daesha reprimanded. "He has turned back to the light. He is overcoming his doubt and guilt and turning them into strengths. One day, he will be a whole Jedi once more."

Scourge scrutinized her for a moment. "He is the reason we returned to Tython, isn't he?" Daesha nodded, and Scourge sneered. "Again, a waste of your talents. Sajar was powerful as a Sith. He embraced his anger and hatred with a whole heart. When he became a Jedi, he lost that power. He is a shell of what he once was."

"I would rather he were powerless and free, than still a slave to the Emperor's will," Daesha shrugged. "At least now, he may choose his own way."

"Freedom is an illusion," Scourge scoffed, glancing down at the ground. "Sajar will never be free. He will die a pawn of the Council's games."

Daesha was silent for a moment. She had not missed the longing in his voice when he said the word _freedom_. Scourge glanced at her, and she took a deep breath. "That's what you want most, isn't it? To know that freedom is not an illusion. Even though the Emperor is dead, you're still his slave. Your curse hasn't lifted, has it?" she asked gently.

Scourge's irritation flared. "I do not need your pity," he hissed. "Freedom was never an option for me. Once the ritual was completed, my fate was sealed. It is not reversible."

"If the mortal can become immortal, then the immortal can die," Daesha insisted, her voice growing hard. "Nothing is permanent, Scourge. Not even your curse."

"You were not there!" he growled. "The agony was unbearable, both mentally and physically. I fell groveling before the Emperor, sobbing like a child. He told me that it could never be reversed, and I have learned to believe him. I can block out the pain, but I will not fill my head with idle fantasies of mortality!"

"He also said that he would never be defeated, and he was wrong on that account," Daesha argued. "The Emperor was a manipulator and a liar. Why would he change that for you?"

"Don't waste your time on me, Jedi. Unlike Sajar, I cannot be saved," he snarled. He turned and stalked down the hall. He was about to palm open his door when he was spun around. Daesha pinned him to the door with the Force, her eyes spitting fire.

"Only you can save yourself from the darkness, Scourge. But if I can find a way to lift this, will you take it?" she ground out. Scourge merely looked down at her, surprised. She was different when she was like this, with passion and conviction flowing through her. Force, but he wanted to draw out that passion. To be the only witness when she was overwhelmed by it and lost all control. Instead, he just gazed down at her, knowing that she would take his silence for assent. After a minute, she let him go. "Just so we…agree," she blushed, obviously embarrassed by the display. "Good night," she said before scurrying back to her cabin.

* * *

Daesha smiled reassuringly at Leeha as the Nautolan turned back into her own quarters. Leeha had accompanied her to her ship late the previous night, and Daesha had quickly been able to secure Jomar Chul's comm signal. She had given Leeha some privacy, choosing to brew some jasmine tea for the both of them. Since her dream about Scourge, she had been craving it intensely. When she had returned, Leeha had been sitting on her bed, face tearstained but grinning widely. Although Jomar had been shocked at first, he had quickly become more and more excited. He had promised to return early from Corellia and begged her not to overworry herself about the situation. The grin on his face had been infectious, and Leeha had been unable to stop smiling.

Daesha had quickly thrown her a spare set of sleepclothes before going to change into hers. Once that was done, they had spent almost an hour discussing whom the child would look more like. Leeha had mentioned that twins also ran in her family, and her face had gone pale at the thought. For another hour afterwards, they had discussed the various benefits and pitfalls of the Order's ban regarding attachments. They had both come to the conclusion that while the ordinance made sense to avoid falling to the dark side, the Jedi needed to become more tolerant of the practice. So many people viewed the Jedi as prideful and self-righteous, and they had both agreed that the philosophy of detachment did not help that image. However, the discussion had also made Leeha emotional again, and she had begun crying uncontrollably.

They had laid on Daesha's bed, Leeha's head pressed into her collarbone as she cried out all her fears and frustrations. She loved Jomar deeply, and she wanted to be with him. She also loved the Jedi, and she wanted to continue as one. She was worried for her child, for how they would provide for it if the Council did expel them. Where would they go? What would happen if their child were Force sensitive? Would it go to the Jedi, or would Jomar and Leeha refuse? How would it grow up? Could Leeha live knowing that her child would never get to know its mother, yet also knowing that her child would make a difference? She had continued for almost half an hour before she settled down and fell into a deep sleep. Daesha had thought it was just exhaustion, but her conversation with Scourge had proved that wrong.

"I'll comm you later tonight. And you can always come to the ship if you need support," Daesha reminded her.

"I will. And thank you, my friend," Leeha smiled. The door closed in front of her, and Daesha stood there for a moment. A child. It was a miracle of the Living Force, the most fundamental of life's mysteries rolled into a tiny, screaming package. Daesha shook her head to clear the thoughts and headed for Sajar's quarters. She had promised to see him again today; and, hopefully, he was doing better. When she finally reached his quarters, her hand drifted automatically to the hilt of her lightsaber. Her stomach clenched. She could sense darkness in the chamber beyond. She palmed open the door, almost afraid of what she would find. Instead, her mouth dropped open.

"It is about time you arrived," Scourge said, rising from his crouch in front of Sajar. "Perhaps you can convince this fool that I cannot be infected by his ridiculous devotion to your Order."

Daesha stood still for several seconds, processing the scene before her. Sajar was sitting on his bed, regarding her with a tranquil gaze. Scourge glared at him before turning his frown to her. He was dressed in black tunics instead of armor, his lightsaber resting against his hip. His entire aura radiated irritation, and he scowled when she did not answer immediately. _That_ made her temper flare. "Why would I ever want to do that?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Far be it from me to work against his progress."

"Far from progress," Scourge snapped. "He has wasted my time, just as he did yours when he dragged us to this blasted place."

Daesha fought to control her anger, but it rose up in her like a flame. "I suppose it's a very good thing that you have time to spare, then," she whispered. His eyes widened fractionally, unused to such tactics from her. She had never mentioned his curse with anything but remorse.

"Indeed," he murmured. His mouth turned up into a small smile, and she knew he was pleased. "That is my burden to bear, Jedi. But I do not intend to waste time on such trivial matters as Sajar." He strode past her and out the door. When it closed automatically, Daesha turned to Sajar.

"What in the stars was he doing here?" she asked.

"I had another vision last night. I witnessed him on his knees, head to the ground and weeping before the Council. The light side was filling him, consuming and possessing him," Sajar told her. "I thought that perhaps it was a premonition, so I contacted your ship and asked to speak with him. When he arrived, and I felt his darkness…I knew he would never listen to me. But I chose to try converting him, although you can see how well that worked."

"I'm surprised that he agreed to see you at all," Daesha admitted.

"You'd be surprised at the connections that isolation can form. He is alone here, both by circumstances and his own refusal to change. Scourge knows both Praven and I, recognizes us from his past. A slightly familiar face is better than nothing. He attempts to convince himself he is stronger than us. When he sees us, he rejoices in our perceived failures. If only he knew how wrong he was," Sajar shrugged.

"You are very insightful, Sajar," Daesha smirked.

"Not insightful enough, I fear," Sajar smiled in abashment. "I would like to change that, however. Would you care to meditate with me?"

Daesha sat down on the floor across from him. "Let us begin."

* * *

Daesha stood nervously in front of the Council Chamber, Kira beside her. Kira smiled reassuringly, hoping to calm her friend. Daesha smiled grimly and folded her hands in front of her. It had been two days since her confrontation with Scourge, and they had barely spoken to each other since. With every day that passed, his temper was becoming shorter and shorter. His anger was increasing, and Daesha was beginning to lose even more sleep because of the putrid fury emanating from his cabin. Something had to be done to lift Scourge's curse, and she thought she knew how to accomplish that. She had pored through the archive's stacks, stopping when she had finally found the advanced instructions for energy channeling and transfers. The material was complicated, but she had finally been able to understand it. It sounded promising. The only problem was that it required several very powerful Jedi to accomplish the ritual. The Council fit that description perfectly, and Master Satele had arrived back from Coruscant today. Daesha had requested an audience, and they were now waiting to be admitted.

"You sure you want to go through with this?" Kira asked from behind her. "It's a lot of trouble for someone who won't appreciate it."

"I'm sure," Daesha nodded. She looked back at Kira. "You don't have to be part of this if you don't want to. I would never want to force you to help me."

"I'm with you, Master. Just being cautious," Kira promised.

"I'm proud of you, Kira," Daesha said. The chamber doors swung open then, and Daesha took a deep breath. She and Kira advanced into the chamber and bowed respectfully. Daesha glanced around the Council table, waiting to be addressed. Master Satele studied her, probing her mind gently before speaking.

"I can sense your nervousness, Master Ven. What have you come to ask us?" she inquired.

"I thank you for the audience, Masters," Daesha replied. "I have come to seek your help with a matter of some importance to one of my crew. He is…suffering, and I alone am unable to stop it."

"By 'he', you obviously mean the Sith," Master Kaedan retorted. "How exactly does he suffer, aside from his obvious lack of morality?"

"When Scourge entered the Emperor's service, he was transformed through a combination of Sith alchemy and chemical reactions. The results were twofold. It granted him immortality. However, it also stripped away half his senses and his ability to feel emotion. With the Emperor's death, he had hoped that perhaps the spells holding him would be broken. But they have not. He has become increasingly agitated, and I'm becoming concerned," Daesha explained.

"He chose that path for himself," Master Kaedan pointed out. "Scourge was not forced into the Emperor's service. He chose it, and immortality, willingly. He alone must live with the consequences."

Master Satele glanced over at him, holding up a hand in placation. "Master Kaedan, allow her to finish," she instructed, her voice persuasively low.

"How can the Council help you with such a matter, Daesha?" Master Kiwiiks asked. "We are not in the practice of stripping beings of immortality."

"Indeed not, Master," Daesha smirked. "However, I have discovered instructions for a process of light side channeling and energy transfer. They were difficult to decipher, but I believe that I understand them now. They are my best lead on how to reverse Scourge's condition. But it requires more than one Jedi, and I request the Council's aid in this process."

"You are asking us to help a Sith regain his emotion?" Master Kaedan gawked.

"Master, I realize that your view of Lord Scourge is dim. When I first met him, I was less than enthused by his presence. However, he has been an invaluable asset. Without his assistance, my crew and I would never have escaped the Emperor. We also would have never learned the Emperor's true intentions. Had he not stepped forward, the Emperor might have already consumed the galaxy by this point. His training was also indispensible in the weeks before my mission to Drommund Kaas. We owe him a great debt," Daesha reminded him.

"His actions were motivated by self-preservation, not compassion. His true desire was to save himself above all else," Master Kaedan argued.

Daesha paused and looked down. "That is a hard point to argue with, I fear."

"You are right, Master Ven. He has helped us greatly," Master Satele interjected. "However, Master Kaedan is right as well. His actions have always been motivated by selfishness, never by a desire to serve others. He is dangerously unbalanced."

"Should that not be another reason to do this?" Daesha asked. "If he continues to exist this way, his anger will only increase. And he will never die until those spells are broken. He will be an immortal Sith, forever wandering the galaxy in frustration. It is hardly an ideal situation. If the ritual's effects were stripped away, he would become mortal. Within the next few decades, he would die. He would no longer be a threat to the Jedi or their interests."

"What you say is true," Master Kiwiiks admitted. "However, Scourge has never expressed any remorse for his actions. What makes you think that he will no longer be a threat if we help him become mortal?"

"I cannot promise that he would not go against our ways. But the time he has to go about it would be dramatically lowered," Daesha said.

"It would indeed," Master Satele said. "But I hesitate at the morality of this decision. Scourge has caused unimaginable pain throughout his lifetime, pain of which he is unashamed. I doubt any of his victims would advocate relieving whatever suffering he feels."

"Master, as Jedi, is our way to pick and choose who receives relief of suffering? I realize that Scourge has caused untold suffering over the last three centuries. He shows no remorse, and by that, reveals his greatest flaw. However, he has also suffered greatly. He chose to connect himself to an insane Sith lord for almost three centuries in the hopes of one day stopping his plans. The mental strain alone would have broken most beings. I cannot even begin to imagine the physical pain, either. He feels no emotions, save anger. His senses are dulled to only sight and sound. He has no hope of release, even from death. To be forced to endure such an existence is a torture beyond anything I can dream of. I realize that he cares nothing for others, but he is no Jedi. We are. Our nature should be one of compassion," Daesha pressed.

Masters Satele and Kiwiiks glanced at each other. Master Kaedan simply studied her from over steepled fingers. When Master Satele finally spoke, her voice was filled with hesitation. "Daesha…" she began.

Daesha interrupted her, bowing her head respectfully as an apology. "Master, I have never asked the Council for anything before this time. I have never made a single request in all my years of service. Now I am. Please, help me in this," she pleaded. Master Satele closed her eyes, opening herself to the Force. Master Kiwiiks gazed at her and waited until she opened her eyes. Master Satele nodded at her.

"Master Ven, despite our understandable hesitations, the Council will grant you this request. Bring Scourge before us tomorrow, and we will try this ritual of yours," she conceded.

"What? Satele, you cannot seriously agree to this?" Master Kaedan gaped.

"But I am agreeing to it. Master Ven raises a valid point. We are Jedi, and our actions must reflect compassion. Regardless of the baser emotions we may feel towards the subject of that compassion," she said.

"Master Satele, you wisdom is great. However, I cannot in good conscience agree to this. I will not oppose the ritual, but I will not aid it," Master Kaedan said.

"You may do as you wish, Kaedan," Master Satele nodded. "Thank you for your honesty."

"Masters?" Daesha piped up. All three gazed at her. "I thank you."

"Do not thank us yet," Satele instructed. "There is no guarantee that this will work. But we will help you, Master Ven. Go and gather your strength. We will make our preparations." Daesha turned and left the chamber, hope in her heart. Once she and Kira had gone, Master Satele turned to face Master Kiwiiks. "I do hope she is not disappointed."

"As do I," Master Kiwiiks agreed.


	6. Chapter 6

Scourge stood rigidly in the center of the antechamber, waiting for Daesha to make her appearance. She had commed him that morning during his kata drills, giving him directions to a room within the Jedi Temple. When he had asked what it was about, she had gravely responded that she might know of a way to break his curse. The admission had sent his heart racing, and his mouth had almost dropped open. It had been a full minute before he could respond, and she had waited patiently. He had snarled at her first, berating her for the misuse of her time. She had rolled her eyes, reminding him that it was _her_ time. She had then proceeded to ignore his brilliant rant about Jedi and their interference in matters that were not their business. She had then left her speechless with her following comment. "I understand that you're frightened this won't work," she had said. "But trust me, it will."

His eyes had widened and he had almost crushed the communicator from rage. "If you think that-" he had begun before she cut him off.

"Just meet me there at noon. If possible, take an hour or two to meditate and fortify yourself. This may not be pleasant. Master Ven out," she had instructed.

Three hours later, he was standing in the room she had instructed. He hated being in the Jedi Temple with a passion. The light side was firmly rooted here, drawing from the thousands of Jedi within the Temple's walls. The walls themselves radiated power, and Scourge could almost feel the tendrils of light side energy reaching out for him, seeking the darkness inside him in hopes of eradicating it. He shivered in revulsion. How did the Jedi manage to reside here? He turned at the sound of footsteps and saw Daesha approaching with Leeha.

The two women were deep in conversation, and they stopped in the door to the antechamber. Leeha blinked rapidly and Daesha smiled. Scourge watched in silence. Leeha was wrapped in the light side, glowing with happiness. Daesha's presence was also bright, and she was filled with anticipation. Scourge had to wonder what exactly was going on between them. Whatever the Nautolan had done, the outcome must have been positive for such sheer…joy. Daesha watched as Leeha left, and her smile was almost maternal. Then she turned back to him, and the smile fell from her face. She approached him slowly.

"I take it her matter has been resolved?" he asked.

"As much as it can be for now. In time, everything will be well," Daesha replied. He crossed his arms, but she offered no further explanation. Her mouth pulled tight and she dipped her head slightly, mistaking his meaning. "I apologize that what I said earlier offended you. I did not mean to imply that you are a coward. But I realize how important this is to you. It is only natural to feel some apprehension."

"If this ritual succeeds, I will be mortal again. If not, then I will have lost nothing," Scourge said. "There is nothing to fear."

Daesha placed a hand on her hip and glanced up at him. "Hope itself can inspire fear of failure. But we are not here to argue. We are waiting for Master Satele and certain members of the Council. They have agreed to help you," she explained.

Scourge's eye ridges raised in genuine shock. "The Jedi Council have agreed to help me?" he scoffed. "At what price? My dedication to your Order?"

Daesha rolled her eyes. "Their only condition was that you refrain from using the dark side while on Tython. They do not want the Temple corrupted. Of course, your dedication to the Order would be a bonus, but a commitment to the Jedi is voluntary," she said.

Scourge reached out with the Force and brushed her mind, searching for any deception. She had never lied to him before, but this all sounded far too simple. "What made them agree to help me?" he inquired. "Unlike Praven, I do not seek redemption. I will not weep and beg forgiveness for the things I have done."

"I personally talked with Masters Satele, Kiwiiks, and Kaedan. I reminded them of all you had done and the debt that we owed you. Master Kaedan refused to help regardless, but I was able to reason with Masters Satele and Kiwiiks. I convinced them that making you mortal was a better plan than leaving an immortal Sith roaming the galaxy. They also know that I have never asked the Council for anything, and they took that into consideration. Master Kiwiiks recruited Tol Braga and Praven to help us, as well. Sajar is still too conflicted, I fear. Master Satele was also going to bring Masters Sengre and Teman. They are both healers, and quite powerful in the Force," Daesha explained.

"What exactly does this ritual contain to require so many Jedi?" Scourge asked.

"You told me once that the Emperor transformed you using Sith alchemy and some kind of chemicals. We are not going to do that. This ritual is purely energy channeling and transfer. Masters Satele, Kiwiiks, Braga, Sengre, and Teman are some of the most powerful Jedi in the Order. Basically, they will allow the Force to flow through them, channeling the light side out of themselves and directly into you," Daesha told him.

"The light side?" Scourge barked. "I am a Sith; I draw my energy from the darkness, not the light. To do this would be to-"

"Completely empty you of darkness," Daesha finished. "The dark side holds a powerful influence over you, and you cannot escape it. It feeds off your energy, constantly renewing whatever spells the Emperor put in place. In order for this to work, there must be no dark side energy left in you whatsoever."

He grabbed hold of her arms, lifting her a few inches off the ground. "No, instead there will be nothing but light. You will have finally succeeded in forcing me to accept your philosophy, and the Council will have another pawn!"

"The light side energy in you will dissipate once the ritual ends. You will be back to yourself within a day, maybe two. This will leave you empty of all influence, able to choose your own path at last. But in order for that to happen, the corrupted energy inside you must be expelled. There is no other way," Daesha replied calmly. "Look into my mind. You'll see that I'm telling the truth."

Scourge did as she asked and realized that she spoke the truth. This was no trick, and there was no other way that she could see. He placed her down. "I am willing to accept those conditions, if it is the only way," he murmured.

"You will have to do something you hate: open yourself completely to the Council. And the Force. You must surrender to it, allow it to work inside you instead of seeking to control it. I won't lie, this ritual may be very painful. But the results will be worth it. And it will work," Daesha said, placing a hand on his shoulder. At that moment, Masters Kiwiiks and Braga walked in, with Praven and Kira trailing behind them. Masters Satele, Sengre, and Teman followed just after them.

"I will do as you ask, Jedi," Scourge promised, stepping back from her. Daesha nodded and walked over to join Master Satele. The Jedi formed a circle around him, quietly attuning themselves to the Force. Scourge caught a breath at the power that he sensed. He readied himself by prying open his mental shields. It was a difficult task, to say the least.

"We are here today at the Hero of Tython's request," Master Satele finally said, her voice clear and powerful. "Lord Scourge, you have served the dark side for almost three centuries. You have obeyed a corrupt master. However, you also helped us defeat the Emperor, and for that we owe you a debt. Although I was hesitant to agree to this, Master Ven's compassion for your plight reminded me that those who serve the darkness suffer just as much as those who serve the light. Perhaps even more so. You have suffered greatly, and we are here to help you. As for what comes after this, you must decide for yourself. Whether you choose to join the Jedi or pursue your own goals, we will do what is right. Whatever you decide, remember one thing. The light is always waiting." Scourge nodded, bracing his feet shoulder width apart and clasping his hands behind his back.

"Remember, you must open yourself to the Force for this to work. Surrender to the light, if only for this moment. Do not fight it," Daesha reminded him.

Scourge shuddered involuntarily, the power of the Jedi making his spine tingle. "I am ready," he said.

"May the Force guide us," Master Satele said before closing her eyes. The other Masters followed suit, opening to the Force and gathering the light into themselves. Scourge forced himself to relax, trying to do the same. He succeeded in opening himself to the Force. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Time stood still for a moment, and the quiet was deafening. He could feel their power collecting, and then it hit him. Eight streams of pure light side energy collided with him simultaneously, causing him to stagger. His shields immediately began to close, seeking to shield him from the overwhelming nature of it. Scourge concentrated hard, forcing his mind to open and accept it.

It began in the palms of his hands, a cool feeling slowly traveling towards his center. The darkness inside of him resisted it, flowed through him and tried to devour it. The light retreated only slightly before slowly beginning to inch its way deeper into his body. It ebbed and flowed like waves, fighting its way through him with agonizing slowness. The darkness tried to draw its strength from his anger, and he felt it panic when it found none. A searing, seeking pain began inside his chest, spreading out through him wherever the darkness resided. It grew in intensity, finally driving him to his knees with a sharp scream. He hadn't felt such pain since his original ritual. The light suddenly increased in power, and he realized that the Jedi had actually been holding back. The light shot up through him, battling bitterly with the darkness. It began to increase in heat, making his arms and legs feel as if they were being burned. He fought to keep his control, forcing himself open to the light even as the darkness in him rebelled. He could feel the border between the two, being torn between indescribable pain and searing heat.

The light and dark continued to battle like that for some time. Scourge couldn't tell how long it was. It might have been hours; it might have been days. He felt the darkness retreating from his chest into his mind, and he almost choked at the sensation. As the darkness traveled through his neck, it felt like he had a stone lodged in his windpipe. The light surged steadily onward, following its prey at a careless pace. As the darkness invaded his mind, Scourge clutched his head. Everything he had ever done came rushing back within seconds. Every assassination from his days with Nyriss. The face of every Sith or Jedi he had ever killed flashed before him. He could hear their screams all mingled together. All the hatred, fear, and anger of his past converged on him, driving his mind close to madness. The Emperor's face appeared before him, his soulless black eyes unblinking and uncaring. Scourge could see the void behind them, the promise and reality of utter oblivion. With every ounce of strength he possessed, he pushed the darkness down out of his mind, into the waiting clutches of the light side. It was devoured without mercy or hatred. The light seemed to hesitate a moment, gently probing his mind, before it leapt into it. The brightness caused stars behind Scourge's eyes, almost blinding him. He bowed his head, silently praying that this experience was almost over.

However, he knew that it was only beginning. The light flooding his body began to burn again. It was gentle at first, but after only a few minutes, it began to increase. His entire body felt like it was burning, the heat going from smoldering to searing to excruciating. He screamed in agony. Tears formed in Scourge's eyes as it felt like every cell in his body was incinerated. Even the water in his blood felt like it was boiling. How was it possible to be burned alive and yet not die? However long it continued, he didn't know. But it was nothing compared to what came next.

The light inside his mind finally reached the sensory centers of his brain. They had been unused for so long that, when they were first touched, Scourge gasped. The light hesitated for a moment, seemed to caress them, and then devoured them. Every nerve receptor in Scourge's body screamed back to life with a vengeance. He was so unused to the sensations that he almost couldn't believe it. The power of it continued to grow, warming and cooling him at the same time. A pit of unbelievable pleasure formed in his stomach, and Scourge began to tremble. Sweat dripped down his brow, and he gritted his teeth. His heart rate quickened, and he slowly gained an awareness of every part of his body that he had been missing for three centuries. He could feel the damp air of the room; he could smell the ozone caused by the ritual. And he could finally, _finally_ see the hideous tan color of the flagstone beneath him. As his senses slowly started coming back, the pit in Scourge's stomach began to wind more and more tightly. It continued unabated for several more minutes, and he wept from the sheer intensity of it. He somehow managed to lift his head, searching for nothing, searching for…something.

His eyes landed on Daesha, face drawn in concentration and body shining with the Force. She was exactly as he remembered from the vision, powerful and victorious. She opened her eyes for a fractional second. Her brown gaze pinned him, and she smiled. The pit in his stomach snapped and unfurled, the ecstasy in it coursing through his body like a wave. Scourge let out a wordless cry of pleasure, the force of it all driving him into a bowing position. His head rested against the cool stone floor, and he trembled uncontrollably. He felt the light slowly begin to fade from his body, and he collapsed onto his side. He heard the murmuring of the Council members and the quick footsteps of Masters Teman and Sengre. They checked his pulse and shined a small light in his eyes. The edges of Scourge's vision began to blur, and his whole body felt bereft of any energy. He vaguely felt Daesha's presence before he blacked out, and her hand on his arm was the last sensation he remembered.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Okay, ladies and gents, I'm only going to say this once. This chapter deserves its rating. _

* * *

Daesha focused her mind. She felt, rather than heard, the components of her lightsaber clink softly together as they raised into the air. Her hands shifted, moving the parts into position as she remembered her teachings. _The crystal is the heart of the blade. The blade is the hand of the Force. The Force is the heart of the Jedi. The Jedi is the blade of the Force. All are one_. She made a simple movement with her fingers, and the components all rushed back together with a satisfying click. The weapon vibrated with power, and she took it from the air. After laying it in her lap, Daesha opened her eyes. The emerald blade was an extension of her power in the Force, just as she was an extension of the Force. Unlike the Sith, who tried to bend the Force to suit their will, the Jedi chose to fill themselves with it. They tried, as best they could, to obey its will and serve its purpose. Occasionally they failed, but much more often, they succeeded. Daesha sighed and placed a hand to her head, hoping that eventually she would be able to count this experience as a success, rather than a failure. She had done the right thing by helping Scourge, of that she was positive. But whether or not she had made a wise decision would be up to him. Daesha glanced down at her lightsaber, overcome by the desire to power it on. She relished the comforting hum, and it often soothed her nerves. But she knew that to do so might wake the room's other occupant.

Scourge lay on the bed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He had blacked out immediately after the ritual. Masters Sengre and Teman had examined him carefully before declaring him fit to move. He had been taken to a small chamber just off the healer's wing. If anything went wrong, help would be readily available. That had been twelve hours ago. Daesha had been here for eleven, only leaving for an hour to comm the ship and eat. Doc and Rusk had been informed that the ritual was complete, and that Scourge would be headed back to the ship once the healers declared him able. Kira had come by two hours later and offered to take her spot, saying that she needed to rest. Daesha had politely refused her, saying that she should be here when Scourge woke. She needed to know if it had worked; she hoped it had. If it hadn't, she had no idea where to even begin looking for other alternatives, or if Scourge would even be willing to try again. What if it had all been just a huge disappointment? If she had raised his hopes only to have them cruelly dashed, would he ever forgive her? Could she ever forgive herself for doing that to an ally? Or, if it had worked, would he regret it in a few days? Would he grow to resent her for taking away his immortality? Would he eventually turn on her and seek revenge? Daesha shook her head forcefully. She was allowing her emotions to overcome her. If the ritual had worked, then she would share his happiness. If it hadn't worked, she would continue searching until she found a way.

Kneeling, Daesha placed her lightsaber to one side and folded her hands in her lap. She opened to the Force, drawing the light into her until she saw and felt nothing else. It flowed through her like a conduit, allowing her to take full stock of her mind and body, as well as sense Scourge's mind. He was at rest, his mind blank. Yet, one thing had changed. She could no longer sense the overwhelming darkness that usually clung to him. Always before, it had seemed wrapped around him like a garment, flexing and flowing with the way he moved. Now, it was simply gone. His aura was completely neutral. She knew that would change once he woke, but for now, she relished the feel. She wondered who he would become, and the course his life would take now.

Daesha sank into the meditation, her muscles relaxing and her mind focused on the image of a lone candle. The flame flickered and smoked, yet the small light illuminated her mind. She was reminded of her description of the Emperor's death. That small flame of hope had driven away the darkness, if only for a second. Honestly, Daesha sometimes worried that the Emperor still lived in some form. If he did, she would continue to fight him until he died a true death. Even if it took the rest of her natural life, she would fight his influence in the galaxy. Her mind flitted back to Scourge, and she hoped once more that the ritual had worked. The look on his face alone had been worth all the effort. Sajar's vision had come true, if only for an afternoon. Scourge had been consumed by the light; it had possessed his body and mind. Daesha wondered idly what his opinion of the light side would become, now that this had happened. He would no longer be able to deny its power, for the ritual had left him unconscious.

Daesha came out of her meditation when she heard a slight rustling. She turned as Scourge slowly woke. He groaned and placed a hand to his forehead. Once his fingers grazed the skin, he stilled. His fingers curled up into a fist. He stayed still for about a minute before uncurling his hand. Hesitantly, he placed a hand to his face, feeling over the bridge of his nose before moving up to his eye ridges. He placed both hands over his face, scrubbing them up and down. He then inhaled deeply, his chest expanding. His eyes moved rapidly behind their lids, and his breath was shaky when he exhaled. Daesha felt his presence extend out into the Force, and she brushed his awareness with her own. He swallowed thickly when he felt her, and his eyes remained closed. "Daesha?" he finally whispered, his voice hoarse.

"I'm here," she said, moving over beside his bed and kneeling down. He reached up a hand, and she took it. His grip tightened to the point of pain, but she remained silent. He slowly opened his eyes before shutting them immediately. She applied the Force to his mind, hoping to help with the dizziness. He chuckled at the action. "Did it work?" she asked.

"Yes," he breathed. He opened his eyes, and his pupils constricted at the lights. After a few seconds, they slowly widened. He blinked several times, his gaze wandering the room. Daesha bit her lip, trying not to smile. She was suddenly reminded of the day her sister Seela had been born. Her huge blue eyes had been roaming the room, her miniature lekku wriggling in irritation when Daesha had taken her from their mother. She had begun squirming, and Daesha's father had quickly taken her. The day Daesha had watched her parents, two elder brothers, and new sister had been the day she had realized she was different. Only afterwards had she asked her father, and he had been forced to explain to a five-year-old what adoption was. She hadn't understood then. When she had joined the Jedi, it had become clearer. Scourge, at the moment, very much reminded her of Seela.

She glanced up again, and he was watching her. For once, there was no calculation in his eyes. He wasn't scrutinizing her or studying her every move. He was just gazing at her, seemingly amazed. His eyes were warm, and his face broke into a smile. Daesha's mouth dropped open. She had often seen him smirk before he began mocking someone (usually her), or she had seen him smile grimly in anticipation of battle. But she had never seen him genuinely smile; it transformed him. For a moment, the Sith Lord was gone. In his place was just an ordinary man, seeing and feeling for the first time. "You are exactly as I remember from my vision," he said, and he reached a finger up to stroke her hair. He shuddered at the contact and pulled Daesha down onto the bed beside him.

He turned over on his side, pulling her closer until they were only a few inches apart. Scourge reached up and undid her bun, throwing the pins lazily onto the floor. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he drew her closer before burying his nose in the hair just behind her ear. He inhaled deeply, his presence in the Force radiating happiness. When he exhaled, his breath came out shaky again. He repeated the process several more times, pressing her closer each time until they were chest to chest. Daesha stayed rigidly still, understanding his actions yet also made extremely nervous by them. She started when he moved down to her neck, inhaling her scent as if it were deathstick smoke and he were an addict. A thrill shot through her, and goose bumps appeared on her neck. His hands, meanwhile, were rubbing up and down her back, fisting occasionally in the soft material of her tunics. He moved his attentions to the other side of her head, and Daesha grabbed onto his shoulder instinctively. She squeezed hard as he smelled her, the contact close to ticklish. Her nails bit into the material of his healing-ward tunics, and he chuckled. Daesha swallowed, and he lifted his head to look at her. "I had hardly expected _you_ to be the one who reintroduced me to pain," he grinned. "Do it again. Please," he asked when she hesitated. Daesha acquiesced, using it as a vent of her confusion. Scourge's eyes closed. "Oh, by the Force," he whispered, burying his head in the crook of her neck again. They laid that way for a few minutes, and Scourge finally lifted his head up again. He studied her for a long time, his eyes roving over every feature of her face. "I must admit, human pigmentation appears strange to me after so long," he said.

Daesha laughed at that. "Says the man with red eyes and skin," she shot back.

Scourge lifted his hand up, seemingly seeing it for the first time. He turned it over before holding it up beside her face. "Quite a contrast," he agreed.

"Indeed," Daesha nodded.

Scourge lifted his hand up, gently brushing a finger down her cheek. Daesha's heart started to pound, her dream from hyperspace flashing through her mind. Scourge's fingers traced her whole face before returning to her cheek. She knew that her face must be bright red. "Your skin is like…vinesilk," he breathed.

Daesha swallowed thickly. "I never would have thought of that comparison," she smiled ironically. He frowned in confusion at her response. If he ever knew the truth about that dream, she would never live it down. "You are truly free?" He nodded. "I should contact Master Teman. She needs to hear of this." She tried to push away from him, but he held her fast.

"In a moment," he insisted, studying her face again as if trying to memorize it. Daesha held his gaze, relying on her negotiation skills to help her avoid looking away. His eyes lowered to her lips, and she could feel his curiosity.

"I should go," Daesha said, scooting back an inch or so. Scourge's grip on her tightened, and he drew her back wordlessly. He hesitated only a second before lowering his mouth to hers. Their lips brushed, slowly melding together. Daesha's eyes widened, and she placed a hand on his shoulder to push him away. He moved her hand, placing it down on his chest. He then cupped the side of her face, tilting his head and kissing her more forcefully. Scourge's lips plied against hers, gaining the access he wanted after a few seconds. He ran his tongue between her lips, smiling at the whimper it elicited. He then nibbled at her bottom lip before pulling back, a satisfied light filling his red eyes.

"Now you may go," he murmured. "No doubt Master Teman is eagerly awaiting." Daesha glared at him before looking down. Her face really was on fire. She scooted away from him and stood, calling her lightsaber to her hand. She clipped it back at her belt.

"I share your happiness that the ritual worked," she said, bowing slightly.

"We will share much more than happiness, once I recover," he smirked.

"I…I must report to Master Teman," Daesha fumbled, scurrying out the door before he could say anything else.

* * *

"Your vitals appear normal, with the exception of a slight elevation in your blood pressure. But, given what has happened, along with your lack of fluid ingestion, that is to be expected," Master Teman said, making a few notes on the datapad she held. She placed it down on his bed and pulled a small light from her belt. "Look here," she instructed, holding up a finger and shining the light in his eyes. Scourge did as she said, waiting patiently for the end of her examination. "Hmm," Master Teman said, looking into his other eye. Scourge raised an eye ridge and glanced at Daesha. She shrugged. "Hold still," the Jedi healer fussed, wrenching his chin back to look at her. Daesha stifled a smile. Master Teman finished and released his chin. Scourge worked his jaw, surprised that such a tiny woman could be so strong. She typed a few more observations into her datapad and finally glanced at him. "Everything appears well, but you should eat soon. And make sure that you ingest at least three glasses of liquid, not caff. Your body is becoming dehydrated. I will perform another exam at ten tomorrow morning. If all is well, you can return to your ship."

"If you must," Scourge sighed, rubbing his chin. There might actually be bruises tomorrow.

Daesha glared at him before turning to Master Teman. Luckily, the Jedi was too busy typing to respond to his comments. "Thank you for your concern, Master. I'm sure that Scourge appreciates it," she said.

"I'm sure he appreciates my company as much as I appreciate his," she replied without looking up. "He would hardly be the first difficult case I've had."

"If this is how you handle all your cases, I'm surprised the Jedi haven't all perished," Scourge muttered.

"Oh, I don't treat everyone like this. Only the lucky ones," she shot back.

"Indeed," Scourge hissed.

"And the mouthy ones too," she snorted, finally glancing up at him. "In all seriousness, you are doing well. If you eat and drink, you should be fit to leave tomorrow. But should you begin to experience headaches, dizziness, or nausea, you need to contact us immediately."

"Of course, Jedi," he replied.

Master Teman studied him for a moment. "You have been given a great gift, Scourge. Welcome back to the land of the living," she said by way of parting. Once she was gone, Daesha smiled.

"You should not antagonize Master Teman," she advised. "She has been a healer for almost twenty years, and she knows how to relieve or cause pain."

"You know this from experience?" Scourge snorted.

"Only through reputation," Daesha assured. "I learned better than that after I saw what she did to Master Orgus." Scourge looked confused, and she sighed. "Orgus Din, my former Master. He was killed by Darth Angral."

"I take it Angral died painfully?" Scourge replied.

"He died," Daesha said. "Revenge is not the Jedi way, and it is not what Master Orgus would have wanted."

"What about what you wanted?" Scourge asked. "I can sense the anger within you."

"Irrelevant," Daesha evaded. "I will honor my Master's memory, regardless of what my baser instincts may have desired."

"The death of a Master is hardly irrelevant to Jedi," Scourge argued. "It is natural to seek revenge."

"That is why the Jedi dedicate themselves to a higher purpose. We are like all other beings. We do feel emotions, but we do not let them cloud our judgment. Darth Angral was a threat to the Republic, and I killed him. But it was not out of anger. It was out of necessity," Daesha said.

"A convincing excuse," Scourge said, rising and crossing over to her. "To kill without emotion is an experience I have never had. It hardly seems like the reaction of a sane sentient."

"You spent three centuries bereft of emotion. You killed hundreds in that time," Daesha pointed out.

"Thousands, actually. Anger, ambition, and fear were my fuel before the ritual. Afterwards, only anger," Scourge corrected. "I have never killed without passion of some kind. To do so seems unnatural."

"And that is the Sith's greatest flaw. Killing does not have to be about revenge or ambition, anger or fear. It does not have to be unmerciful," Daesha sighed.

"Yet the result is always the same," Scourge said. "The elimination of a rival."

"Indeed," Daesha admitted. There was a heavy silence before she smiled grimly. "How is it that you can debate so shortly after the ritual?"

"It is a talent," Scourge shrugged.

"Are you hungry?" Daesha asked, glancing at the door. "The cafeteria is closed, but I'm sure that we can find something." Scourge took a step closer, and she had to crane her neck up to look at him. She could feel desire rolling off him, and Daesha tried to step back. He caught hold of her waist and pulled her back to him. He ran a hand up her spine, and Daesha shivered.

"I do not seek food. Nothing so trivial," he murmured.

"Scourge," Daesha warned, trying again to step back. It was like her back being pressed against an iron bar. He leaned down, and Daesha placed both fists against his chest, trying to push him back. "Do not-" she began before he quickly covered her mouth with his, cutting off her protests. He slipped his tongue between her teeth, taking full advantage of her shock to hoist her up. He wrapped her thigh around his waist, crossing back to his bed before depositing her underneath him. Daesha finally regained her senses, and her surprise quickly turned to irritation. She pushed at his chest again, and he pulled both arms above her head before using the Force to secure them there. He then placed a hand behind her head, pulling her closer to him and slipping a hand behind her back. Daesha bit his tongue, hoping that the pain might make him stop. Instead, he moaned and his hips surged down into hers. She whimpered in panicked surprise as a small flare of heat shot up into her stomach. Daesha closed her eyes in shame. This was so wrong. She wished that the sensations in her stomach had not been so sweet, that his position between her thighs didn't feel _right_ on such a primal level. He pulled his head back just as her lungs began to burn, staring down at her with what almost looked like…affection.

"It would be better to just let me have my way, Jedi," he whispered. "I can feel your desire building."

"How far...are you...planning to go? I don't want...to have to...hurt you," Daesha panted.

"I will not rape you," Scourge scoffed in offense. "I am not so base as some of my fellow Sith."

"This is still wrong. It is against the Code," she breathed.

"Nothing about this is wrong," Scourge frowned. "Passion is natural. What could be more right?" With that, he lowered his mouth, kissing along the column of her neck. The restraints on her wrists released, and Daesha moved her hands to his shoulders, intending to push him off. Instead, she clung to his shoulders when he reached the crook of her neck. He bit down gently, nibbling on the skin there for several seconds. Daesha closed her eyes again, stifling a small moan when his actions sent several sharp spikes of heat to her lower stomach. Her hips lifted instinctively, and she felt him smile. Scourge said nothing, continuing to kiss along her collarbone until he reached the edge of her tunic. He moved back the other way until he reached the crook of her neck again. She shivered when he bit down on the same spot. But this time, he bit hard, tongue whirling around the edge of the bite as he sucked. Daesha gasped at the sensation, running her hands down his arms. She glanced away from him, not trusting herself enough to look at him. His bare forearm caught her eye, the muscles flexing slightly in response to his movements. Not thinking, Daesha planted a kiss on his forearm, eyelids fluttering in pleasure. The action stopped him, and he glanced down at her in surprise. She gazed up at him with hooded eyes. Leaning down, he kissed her thoroughly before sitting up.

Daesha lay there for a moment, recovering her wits. "That was wrong," she finally managed.

Scourge turned her head to face him. "Only in your eyes, Jedi," he smirked. "I rather enjoyed myself."

"I know you did," she retorted, sitting up. "But it – it cannot happen again."

Scourge shrugged. "Only you can decide when you will be brave enough to embrace your true nature," he said. "I will be waiting when you do."

"Don't hold your breath," Daesha warned.

"I have waited for three centuries. I can wait a little longer," he promised.

Daesha blushed but held his gaze. "I should go," she said.

He moved out of her path and helped her stand. "Rest well," he instructed.

"You as well," she said, lingering only a few seconds before walking out the door.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: This chapter is for the awesome UpsiDaisy, who encouraged me in writing this surprisingly difficult chapter. _

* * *

Scourge strode back into the _Shield_. The Jedi healers had finally released him. He had hurried from the healer's wing, sparing Daesha only a nod when he had passed her in the hall. She had returned the gesture, but had made no move to discuss what had happened the previous night.

Kimble and Rusk looked up as he passed the small kitchenette. Rusk nodded in greeting before turning his attention back to the datapad he was reading. The medic raised his glass of muja juice in a mock salute. "You normal yet, Scourge?" he called out just before Scourge rounded the corner. He refused to dignify that question with an answer. To finally be free of such a curse was something an idiot like Kimble would never understand. Scourge took a deep breath, relishing the stale smell of the ship's recycled air supply. It felt as though a kilo weight had been lifted off his chest, as if he could finally breathe again after three centuries.

Scourge stopped at the threshold of his quarters. The many weapons lining the walls gleamed enticingly. His lightsaber lay on the bed, and Scourge called it to himself with the Force. The belsa wood on the hilt gave way to polished iron-gray durasteel before ending in a tri-point formation. He turned the weapon over in his hands before striking a Juyo pose. The lightsaber was a steady weight in his hands, one of the few things he had been able to rely on since defecting. The callouses on his palms matched up with the grip perfectly. His fingertips tingled at the weapon's contained power, and Scourge switched it on. It ignited with a hiss, and the crimson blade slowly extended. The momentousness of the occasion humbled Scourge. To fully see and experience his weapon again was overwhelming. He performed a few simple katas, the movements like a second nature. As the minutes passed, a smile formed on his face. How he had missed this.

* * *

Daesha walked down the halls of the Temple. She had just given Master Satele the update on Scourge's condition, and Master Teman had declared him fit to return to the ship. He had done so quickly, sparing her only a glance. Daesha might have been offended, had she not known him so well. He had been instructed to leave all his armor and weapons on the ship prior to the ritual, and Daesha knew how edgy he became without them.

Daesha continued heading for the meditation gardens, knowing that she desperately needed some time to organize her thoughts. She had slept deeply, exhausted from everything that had happened. But when she had woken, her lips had been tingling, and she had discovered a very pronounced bruise on her neck. From the teeth marks ringing it, she knew exactly where it had come from. Daesha had tried using the Force to heal it, unsatisfied when it had faded only slightly. She had never been very adept with healing. She had slipped into one of her high-neck robes, cursing Scourge in Twi'leki the whole time. Meditation would do her a world of good. However, this was not to be. Daesha turned as Kira caught up to her.

"Good morning," Kira smiled widely, slipping an arm through hers. "Did it work?"

"Yes," Daesha answered, returning her smile. "I see that being around Master Kiwiiks has not tamped down your natural enthusiasm. It seems to have increased it, in fact."

"It's nice to have a vacation," Kira shrugged. "I've missed her these last few months."

"I'm glad you finally have an opportunity to spend time with her," Daesha said. She felt a small twinge of regret in her chest. She wished that Master Orgus had been here to celebrate their victory. Or even Master Coren, her Master from before Tython. But he was offworld on Coruscant, working a joint operation with SIS.

"So am I. But I think she needed a few hours alone. She is…subdued, since Tattooine," Kira said. "I know that giving in to anger is wrong, but every time I see Praven, I want to deck him."

Daesha laughed at that. "I doubt he would try to stop you. But Master Kiwiiks has forgiven him, so you should do the same. I realize that it is difficult, but you must overcome this. The past cannot be changed. Praven is trying to make amends, and that is the important thing."

"I know, but still…" Kira sighed. Daesha stopped in her tracks and placed a hand on Kira's shoulder.

"You will find peace with this eventually, Kira. I know you, and you are stronger than your anger," she assured. Kira nodded. She opened her mouth to say something, but Daesha's comm chirped. Kira motioned for her to answer it. "Pardon me," Daesha apologized. She held up the comm. "Master Ven here," she responded.

Leeha's hologram appeared before her. "I apologize for disturbing you, Daesha. But if you're free, there is something I need to discuss with you."

Daesha looked up at Kira, who nodded. "I'll be right there. Master Ven out. You're sure you don't mind?" she said, tucking the device away.

"Of course not," Kira said. "I've got things to do, anyways. We'll have plenty of time to see each other. But is Leeha all right? I ran into her yesterday, and she seemed…different."

"She'll be okay," Daesha said. "She's just having some personal issues right now."

"I hope so," Kira said, bowing slightly before departing. Daesha sighed, looking back at the meditation gardens. Personal peace would have to wait.

* * *

Scourge sat on the floor of his quarters, eyes closed. The reassuring weight of his lightsaber and vibroshivs felt good, natural. After everything that had happened, he needed something familiar. He had been tempted to strap on his armor but had settled for his normal black tunics instead. Scourge reached out into the Force, searching. With his curse broken, he could finally feel the Force in all its glory again. It was breathtaking. Such life, emotion, and vitality were at his fingertips, and Scourge almost mourned the three centuries that he had lost. Even now, he could feel the warmth emanating from the Jedi Temple, the sheer power that they possessed. Had he not been raised by the Sith, Scourge might have actually been drawn to it. The Jedi, and the light side, he was coming to realize, were more powerful than he had previously believed. He was…grateful to the Jedi; and the sensation only turned his stomach slightly. He placed a hand on it and frowned. Nausea was such an unpleasant sensation when experienced fully, and he tamped it down with an iron will. He had no desire to see Master Teman again. The healer had almost broken his knee while testing his reflexes. Although, judging by her apprentice's bewildered look, he was guessing that it was not customary to use a durasteel hammer.

Scourge shook his head and focused. He was, and always had been, bad at meditation. He suddenly wished that he'd had more time with Revan. Perhaps the Jedi could have explained such an arcane practice to him. Normally, he would have been in the ship's salle (or rather, the extra cargo bay that had been converted into one) if his mind needed focusing. The dark side was all about action, not sitting still and waiting for peace to come. There was something calming about hacking the training droids to pieces. When Daesha's droid had seen that the first time, he had let out an electronic scream and raced from the room. Daesha had come to him later that day, the shaking droid beside her, and politely told him to close the cargo bay doors when he was practicing. The droid had avoided him for a month, and it always had its weapon out in his presence for another month after that. He hoped that would not be the reception he got from her. Hacking something apart suddenly sounded like a wonderful idea. Scourge rose, stopping when a knock sounded on his door. He drew one of his shivs when he recognized the presence on the other side. Scourge squared his shoulders and tensed before palming the door open. "What are you doing here?" he growled.

Praven only raised an eye ridge at his stance. The other pureblood exuded calm, and Scourge was tempted to stab him for it. "I had thought you might appreciate some company," Praven said in their native tongue.

"You were wrong," Scourge responded in kind. "I do not seek the company of a traitor."

"You are hardly the Emperor's pawn anymore, Scourge," Praven reminded him.

"I mean a traitor to our species, you fool," Scourge hissed. "Or have the Jedi made you stupid as well as blind?"

Praven reached out in the Force, studying him. Scourge's grip on the shiv tightened. All it would take was one cut…but he doubted Daesha would appreciate the mess he would make. "I sense the reduction of your darkness. We are not so different now, whether you choose to believe it or not."

Scourge held the blade to his throat. "Provoke me, and you will see how quickly that can change," he threatened.

"Why would you go back to the old ways when you have a chance to start anew? You were never a fool, Scourge, and I highly doubt you have become one in the last two days," Praven asked, pushing the blade away calmly.

"I surrendered to the light side for less than an hour. It hardly means that I am seeking redemption now," Scourge argued, strapping the shiv back into its holster on his thigh.

"May I come in?" Praven asked. "I cannot sense Master Ven or Knight Carsen, and we should speak. I know how difficult it is to adjust to this planet. To be completely alone, even among the Jedi, is harrowing."

Scourge hesitated for several seconds before stepping aside. "Come in if you must. Say what you need to say, and then get out of my sight," he hissed. Praven entered, looking around at some of the trinkets lining the walls. Some were Imperial artifacts, but most were various weapons.

"I take it your main passion in life is combat," Praven deduced sarcastically, turning to face him. Scourge crossed his arms. He was used to looking down at others to intimidate them, but Praven was almost as tall as him. He had a slightly slimmer built, but he had always been a formidable warrior. That was perhaps his only redeeming quality.

"As much as your passion is honor," Scourge shrugged. "Now, why are you here?"

"Master Teman informed me that your ritual was successful. I wanted to see for myself," Praven said.

"So I have become the Jedi's sideshow," Scourge sneered. "Hardly an honor I would have chosen."

"They do not seek to mock you, merely to help you. And do not waste your time telling me that you are unhappy with the results. I could feel your contentment as I entered the ship," Praven said, no tone of mockery in his voice. Scourge frowned.

"Have I become so easy to read?" he asked.

"Only to those who knew you before," Praven assured. "Every time you would walk past Angral or his retinue, I could feel your fury. I am glad that you have been healed, Scourge. Not even you deserved the life that you were living."

Scourge pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Please, do not try to convert me as Sajar did. I should have broken his neck. I am…grateful for what the Jedi have done," Scourge ground out. "But I have never sought their way. Master Ven tries continually to convert me, and it does not work. You have no better chance than she does."

"She is skilled," Praven admitted fondly. Scourge's hand curled into a fist. Jealousy snaked its way down into his chest, and he was tempted to reach for his shiv again. Praven shared a history with Daesha, and Scourge bit back a string of curses. To think of Praven within ten feet of her made him furious, and the obvious affection in his tone made it even worse. Praven held up a hand. "But you are a difficult case. You cannot tell me that you did not feel its power, Scourge. I was there. You were nothing short of sobbing."

Scourge raised an eye ridge. "It was beyond powerful. Never have I felt anything so painful or scorching. It was…ecstatic," he revealed. "I have never had an experience to rival it. Not even at the Emperor's hands."

"You never would have," Praven admonished. "The nature of darkness is to take, never to give."

"I will not dedicate myself to an Order that forbids even the most basic emotions. Passion is a source of power, and the Jedi shackle it in their members. I know that just from watching Daesha. She limits herself so severely that it is a miracle she wields such power. Were she or the Jedi to open themselves to that passion, they would become so much stronger. Yet, they starve themselves of it in the name of self-control. Much like you," he said.

"You can insult me, Scourge, but it will not take away the truth of my words," Praven responded.

"Nor will your arguments take the truth away from mine," Scourge shot back. "You have always limited yourself in the name of honor. I am not surprised that you have adapted to the Jedi so well. But I do not seek redemption as you do. The Jedi have helped me, but I will not shackle myself to their strictures merely out of guilt. I do not believe in their Code, and I never will."

"What do you seek, Scourge?" Praven asked after a moment.

Scourge steeled his face to neutrality. "I do not know," he lied.

Praven brushed his mind, seeking his emotions. Scourge flinched, knowing that he had given himself away earlier. Praven's eye ridges shot up. "_That_ is certainly unexpected. I never would have thought you to prefer humans."

"She is a testament to their species," Scourge sighed, knowing that there was no point to lying.

"How long have you wanted her?" Praven pressed, crossing his arms. "I would hardly consider you compatible."

Scourge glared but answered. "Since I first saw her on Quesh. It has been torture all this time, being near her but unable to do anything. Now that I am restored, it has been almost unbearable."

"Indeed?" Praven asked, his eyes gleaming with barely restrained anger. Scourge was suddenly very reminded of Sergeant Rusk.

"Yes. My advances make her nervous. Normally I would not be so patient, but she is different. I have no wish to simply bed and then discard her."

"You desire to possess her," Praven deduced. "And the Jedi forbid possession."

"That is the least of my issues with them," Scourge admitted.

"Has she been responsive to your emotions?" Praven asked.

"Not as much as I would have hoped. I can tell that the encounter brought her pleasure, though, even if she tries to deny it," he said.

"Scourge…" Praven hissed in warning. "What have you done?"

Scourge rolled his eyes. "We have not been together. She would not allow it. Although I wish she had," he smirked. "I can sense the passion inside her. To see her release her control, to embrace her emotions and the Force in its full intensity…"

"You will cause trouble for her," Praven warned.

"I will not force myself on her. But I will not disguise my desires, either," Scourge replied.

"You are setting yourself up for disappointment," Praven said. "She is dedicated to the Jedi. And even if her commitment were to falter, I highly doubt that she would accept a Sith as her mate."

"Perhaps. Yet, as Carsen is so fond of reminding me, I am no longer welcome among the Sith," Scourge said regretfully.

"You have sacrificed much for victory over the Emperor," Praven agreed. "A sane man would take the opportunity in front of him."

"I seek neither the light nor the Jedi," Scourge snarled again.

"Then what are your options?" Praven asked.

Scourge closed his eyes, reaching out into the Force. It flowed and swirled on Tython, primarily light, but with traces of darkness. _There is light and dark in everyone, for such is the way of the Force_. His mind flashed back to Drommund Kaas, to fighting alongside Revan and Meetra. Scourge remembered the feel of his presence, understood why legions had flocked to follow him. He remembered the raw power that he had possessed, when he had channeled both the light and the dark, surrendered to and controlled them. He had been a conduit of the Force at that moment, a reminder of how it truly existed. Light and dark, separate yet forever intertwined. "I know a man, powerful in the Force and wise. He and I were allies once, and, for our differences, I respected him. He was different from any Jedi I have ever met. He embraced his passions, yet knew serenity."

"Who is he?" Praven asked.

"Revan," Scourge answered.

"The Revan? He is long dead," Praven said.

"No. The Emperor used him, kept him alive as a source of power and insight. But he was freed, some time before my journey to Quesh," Scourge said.

"How do you know this?" Praven inquired.

"Ven freed him," Scourge said. "She told me the story after she learned I had betrayed him."

"You betrayed him?" Praven asked. "And you truly think he will help you?"

"Revan could surprise me, even when I knew him," Scourge answered. "And only he was Master of both light and dark. No one else possesses the insight he had."

"Then I wish you well, Scourge," Praven bowed lightly, walking to the door. "May the Force guide you."

"Praven," Scourge called out as the other Sith was about to exit. Praven turned and waited. "Do not seek out my company again," he growled. Praven saluted mockingly and walked away. Scourge waited patiently until he no longer felt his presence. He then headed to the cargo bay, for meditation.


	9. Chapter 9

After stepping through Leeha's door, Daesha stopped short. She smiled at the sight in front of her. Jomar and Leeha sat on the couch, his hand on her stomach. He looked up at Daesha, his eyes dancing. Leeha grinned over at her. "I see that you've finally met our newest Jedi," Daesha greeted, kneeling in front of them. She placed a hand over Jomar's and grinned. "It's different, isn't it?"

"It's miraculous," Jomar laughed. "I never could have imagined something so pure."

"How did you get here so fast?" Daesha asked. "I was told you were on Corellia."

"Corellian smugglers have the fastest starships in the galaxy," he shrugged. "I'm just glad I got here before Leeha leaves."

"You're leaving?" Daesha asked.

"The Council has given me an assignment. Apparently, there is a problem with Coruscant's defense grid. Given my experience with mechanics, they thought I might be able to help. I leave for the capital tomorrow morning," Leeha said.

"But you shouldn't be going anywhere right now," Daesha protested.

"I'm not so far along that traveling is a problem," Leeha said. "Besides, it's such a simple assignment that I couldn't have refused them. They would have become suspicious. I should be back within a week."

"And I need to return to the spaceport before my contact leaves," Jomar said. "I told him the situation, and he agreed to wait until tomorrow afternoon. But he won't stay forever."

"The Council doesn't know you're here?" Daesha asked.

"I told the director of Corellian Humanitarian Services that I had a personal emergency. He agreed to cover up my absence for a few days. I'm good at infiltration; it was easy enough to sneak into the Temple," Jomar explained. "Which brings us to the reason we asked you here."

"What is that?" Daesha asked warily. Leeha turned bright red, and Jomar smiled sheepishly. "Leeha…"

"As you know, we have always been very discreet, but the Council are all on Tython at the moment. We want to spend tonight together, but I fear that we might be discovered. I know that your ship is secure and, well, I was hoping that we might…" Leeha trailed off.

"Oh no!" Daesha exclaimed, rising. "On my ship?!"

"Well, yes." Leeha answered meekly. Jomar snorted and placed an arm around her waist. "You were kind enough to help me contact Jomar, so I thought…"

"On my-my ship?" Daesha repeated, beginning to pace. "Why not here? This child was conceived on the Temple grounds, after all."

"Master Kaedan's quarters are only two doors down from here. And the child was actually conceived in the far salles, several hundred meters from the Temple," Jomar corrected teasingly. "In the far east salle, by the windows."

"Not another word," Daesha warned. Jomar grinned. "Why can't you use that spot then, instead of my ship?"

"Because I don't relish the thought of being with Leeha, while she is pregnant, on a cold stone floor," Jomar muttered. "She deserves better."

"It was perfect last time," Daesha argued.

"Last time was spur-of-the-moment. This time will actually be planned," Jomar smirked.

"Use your quarters, then," Daesha hissed.

"To get to his quarters, you have to sneak past Master Satele's quarters," Leeha blushed.

"You've done it before, I'm sure," Daesha said. "Do it again."

"Master Satele will be up all night," Jomar insisted. "She just got word of a new Imperial threat, and you know how fastidious she is. Were she to sense us, the consequences would be unimaginable."

"What new threat? And I'll tell her myself, if you both don't stop talking!" Daesha snapped.

"Apparently the Imperial military is calling all their ships back to Drommund Kaas. Republic Intelligence is worried that they mean to launch a counterstrike in retaliation for the assault on their homeworld. The reports are sketchy," Jomar said.

"Would you really tell her, Daesha?" Leeha asked, biting her lip.

Daesha placed a hand to her head and sighed. "Of course not. But that does not mean that I'll let you use my ship as a place to…celebrate," she insisted.

"She wouldn't have asked you if she didn't trust you," Jomar said. "We have no other place that we're sure is safe."

"What if Kira comes back to the ship?" Daesha asked. "Doc and Rusk won't be able to tell, if you're quiet; but Kira can. And Scourge, as well."

"I highly doubt he'll mind," Jomar shrugged. "He is a Sith, and they believe in embracing their passions."

"You don't have much room to talk," Daesha chided.

"Kira is planning to stay in the Temple," Leeha said. "I talked with her this morning. She was rather concerned about Master Kiwiiks."

"Leeha, I'm sorry. You're my friend, and I want to help you, but no-no, absolutely not. I can't allow that kind of thing on my ship," Daesha shook her head. "You'll have to find someplace else."

* * *

Daesha covered her face with a pillow. Why had she agreed to this? _Leeha had better appreciate it. Damn her and those big, sad black eyes_, Daesha thought crossly. She turned on her side and curled into a ball on her bed, trying to pretend that she couldn't feel the sensations emanating from the spare cabin. She was very tempted to scream. At least they were being quiet, so she didn't have _that_ to contend with. If only she couldn't feel them so strongly in the Force. And they had only been here for an hour. They had managed to slip off the Temple's grounds and into the ship without a problem. Kira was still gone, and Scourge was asleep. They had promised to leave an hour before dawn, and Daesha was counting the minutes. _By the Force, this is why the Jedi encourage celibacy. So that we can all get some sleep_, Daesha thought, clutching the pillow tightly. She closed her eyes, reciting the Jedi Code over and over. When she glanced up at the chrono, only five minutes had passed. A low knock sounded at her door, and Daesha answered it. Scourge glared down at her and rubbed a hand over his face. She almost chuckled. Perhaps she should have offered them her cabin, instead of the spare. It just happened to be right next to his. Jedi didn't seek revenge, but it _was_ the only spare cabin they had.

"Damn it, Jedi," he groaned, his voice thick with latent sleep.

"I take it my friend woke you again?" Daesha smirked.

"Indeed she did," Scourge hissed. "Tell me, do you feel that since you have trouble sleeping, the rest of us should as well?"

"I apologize," she said. "They asked for my help."

"If I asked you to help me blow up Tython, would you?" he snapped. "Because the idea is becoming more appealing every day."

"Come in," she offered, moving aside. He lumbered in and rounded on her, crossing his arms. Daesha motioned to the couch. "You are more than welcome."

"Oh no," he murmured, grabbing her wrist and dragging her to her bed. "If we are to contend with this all night, I intend to rest well."

"Scourge-" she began before he pulled her down with him. "This isn't appro-"

"Hush and be still," he snarled, lying on his back. He pulled her over beside him, wrapping an arm around her waist. "You lost your say when you brought Narezz and that Zabrak onboard." Daesha stayed silent for several minutes, knowing it was better not to provoke him. Eventually, though, her curiosity won out.

"How did you know that it was Jomar?" she asked, struggling to keep some distance between them. The heat of his body was palpable through the thin shirt he wore. He squeezed her painfully, and Daesha squeaked.

"The Nautolan doesn't strike me as the type to have multiple lovers. Now sleep," he commanded. Daesha nodded.

"Indeed she is not," she whispered. "Leeha is dedicated to him. It is an attachment that may end up costing her."

"I do not care what it costs her," he mumbled.

"I care," she muttered mutinously. Scourge's eyes flew open, and he rose up on one elbow. He stared at her for a moment before placing a hand behind her head and pulling her forward. His red eyes looked tired, but she could see mischievousness there that he'd never displayed before. He leaned forward until their lips were almost touching. "If you do not go to sleep, I will make you scream so loudly that everyone on this ship will come running," he whispered.

"Was that a threat or an innuendo?" she swallowed.

"Whichever you want it to be," he smirked before turning on the side facing away from her. Daesha closed her eyes, curled up beside him, and eventually fell into a fitful sleep.

Leeha and Jomar left early the next morning, each headed to their respective ships. Daesha saw them to the boarding ramp before dragging back to her room. She expected Scourge to be gone, but he was still lying in her bed, turned on his side to the wall. She bit her lip, hesitant to wake him but knowing what she had to do. She shook his shoulder gently, and he turned over. "They are gone," she said. "You should go before Rusk and Doc wake up. They will ask some uncomfortable questions if they find you here."

"You sound ashamed, Jedi," he chuckled. "But we both know nothing happened."

"But they wouldn't," she insisted, grabbing his wrist and pulling. He raised an eye ridge at her and pulled back, toppling her face first onto the mattress. "You neeb to go," she said, rubbing her nose.

"Are you so afraid of what others think?" he hissed, and Daesha could feel his anger building. "I thought the Jedi were supposed to suppress emotions like pride or fear."

"We are. But I do not want the others getting the wrong conclusions," she said. He yanked her over to him, laying on his back and crushing her against his chest. Daesha's heart rate picked up, remembering what had happened the night before.

"It would not have to be the wrong conclusion. You know what I want," he said, stoking a finger over the bruise on her neck. "What I think you want, as well. You just won't admit it."

"It would be a violation of the Code," Daesha repeated, bracing both hands on his chest to push away. "I couldn't live like that."

"You help your friends with their indiscretion, yet you deny yourself everything," he growled. "And me, in this situation. Do you think it is has been easy to watch Kimble flirt with you every day and say nothing? Do you think it has been easy to hear some of the comments he makes, and not slaughter him? Or do you think it was easy, watching you gyrate with a _Cathar_? Do you think it is easy to hear you prattle about the light side and serenity when I can sense the passion inside of you? Or do you think it was easy last night, letting you leave? I want you, and I know you feel the same way."

Daesha looked away, flushing up to her hairline. "I am a Jedi, Scourge, and attachment is forbidden. I will not give in to this," she whispered. She glanced down at him, and Scourge was frowning. He pushed her off and stood.

"I suppose it is just as well," he said. "I will be leaving soon, and it is better not to complicate matters. You have helped me too much to deserve that."

"You're leaving?" Daesha repeated.

"Yes," Scourge shrugged. "I have personal business to attend to."

"Would you care to elaborate?" Daesha snapped.

"No, actually," he said. "Farewell, Jedi." With that, he stalked out the door.

* * *

The morning was cool and windy. The sky was overcast, and Daesha pulled her robe closer. Scourge had left earlier that morning without saying a word. He had avoided her for three days, and Daesha hadn't pressed the matter. She had received orders from the Council, and she welcomed the distraction. She and her crew were to head to Tattooine, where apparently their help was needed to break a slaving ring. Daesha frowned at the thought of what she might find. This war had done more than just rip the galaxy in half. It had taken attention away from the helpless, who were suffering as a result.

Kira strode down the boarding ramp. "What is wrong, Daesha?" she asked.

"I don't know," Daesha sighed. Her heart was heavy and she felt slightly nauseated. Her limbs felt heavy, and her mind was running in circles. All she could think of was the fact that Scourge had left. It was disappointing. Kira stared in the direction she was looking.

"Scourge will be fine. He can take care of himself," she soothed, mistaking Daesha's silence for worry.

"It's not that," Daesha replied.

"Then what?" Kira pressed. "I don't like seeing you like this."

"We…had a disagreement," Daesha admitted. "It did not end well."

Kira chuckled. "That sounds like an understatement, but I won't press. If it's affecting you this badly, you should go after him and resolve it."

"I should," Daesha sighed. "But I doubt he'll listen."

"It's Scourge," Kira snorted. "Bring him a few disembodied heads, and he'll listen to you all day long." Daesha hesitated, and Kira squeezed her shoulder. "You won't find closure unless you get this resolved. And you will be distracted on Tattooine."

Daesha placed a hand over Kira's. "You're right, of course. I'll return shortly." With that, she strode down and stole Doc's speeder. Gunning it, she roared away from the ship. Within half an hour, she was at the "spaceport", a field about two miles from Kalikori Village where the Twi'leks received supply shipments. A small freighter was being loaded up, and Scourge was leaning against the boarding ramp, facing away from her. She strode up behind him. He didn't turn to face her. "Sorry," Daesha muttered when the ship's crew had to go around her. She stepped to his side, finally bringing her into his line of vision. His eyes were closed, almost as if he were meditating. His eyes moved rapidly, and Daesha brushed his mind.

"What is it, Jedi?" he asked, finally looking at her. His face was carefully neutral.

"We need to resolve this matter before you leave," she said.

Scourge turned to face her. "There is nothing to resolve," he shrugged.

"If you're doing this because of what happened the other night- " she started.

"I am doing this because we have accomplished our common goal, and my vision is complete. Our further association might be…beneficial, but it is not necessary to the galaxy's survival," he cut her off.

"We still need your help. Your knowledge of the Imperials is unrivaled," Daesha argued. "With your help, we could end this war more quickly."

"I agreed to help defeat the Emperor, not the Empire. And surely you can come up with a better excuse than that," Scourge scoffed. "If you're going to ruin my departure, at least be creative."

"The crew needs you," Daesha argured.

"Kimble, Kira, and your droid will not mourn my absence. Sergeant Rusk might miss the advantage I bring to battle," Scourge said. "You, I cannot tell." Daesha shifted in place, glaring up at him.

"I know that you didn't get the answer you wanted, but that doesn't mean that I want you to leave. You're my ally; I rely on you," she admitted.

"That is not enough anymore. I am glad to have aided you, but I must pursue my own goals," Scourge said. "You are not the only one who seeks enlightenment."

"What if the Emperor returns?" she asked.

"All the more reason for me to go," Scourge answered. "I am seeking a man, an old ally of mine. His power is unmatched, and I am hoping that he can help me understand the Force in a new way. Perhaps even enough to withstand the Emperor, should he ever return."

"Who is this man?" Daesha inquired. "Maybe I can help you find him."

"I seek Revan," Scourge snorted. "If the Jedi Council does not know where he is, I doubt you do."

"Revan? That's who you're going after? What makes you think he'll help you?" she asked.

"An instinct," he said.

"Some instincts are stronger than others. Revan was the most powerful Jedi of his generation, and you betrayed him. He was imprisoned as a result, and I highly doubt he's forgotten that. He might kill you," she argued. "Especially for what you did to the Exile."

"If he does, at least I will die at the hands of a man I respect," Scourge shrugged. "There are worse ways to perish."

"Or you could learn from the Jedi," Daesha suggested.

"They will only teach me their narrow view of the Force," Scourge said. "With Revan, I know that I will find what I seek."

"Scourge, don't do this," Daesha pleaded. "Stay with the Jedi, with the crew…with me."

"That sounds like attachment," he smirked. "I would hate to think that I have corrupted you, Ven." Daesha's heart pounded in anger. The void left by his presence felt as if someone had stolen something from her. She relied on her crew; they were the only thing that kept her sane in most instances. Over the last year, she had come to respect him and value his opinion. The thought of not seeing him every day was just…wrong. Yet, he dared to mock her.

"That is not corruption," Daesha finally murmured. "This is." With that, she grabbed the front of his armor and pulled him down, standing up on the tips of her toes to reach his mouth. She placed both hands behind his head, keeping him bent down uncomfortably. His eyes widened, and he pulled her up by the waist, walking them under the ship and away from any prying eyes. Daesha bit his top lip gently as he wrapped her calves around his waist and pushed her against one of the ship's landing struts. The impact jarred her and she pulled away, slightly dazed. Scourge leaned forward and devoured her mouth. For once, Daesha didn't fight it. She ran her fingers along his jaw, tangling them in his facial tendrils. Scourge moaned into her mouth, grinding against her. Daesha gasped and pulled away, leaning forward to kiss along his jaw. He shuddered and held her tightly. She leaned down, intending to kiss his neck, only to find herself kissing armor. "Damn it," she hissed. "Why do you wear so much kriffing armor?"

"To frustrate you," he rumbled. "Only I get to touch today, Jedi." With that, he kissed down her neck again, stopping at the fading bruise. He ripped her tunic to one side and bit down painfully, sucking the wound as hard as he could. Daesha squirmed, digging her fingers into the armor on his back. After a few moments he stopped, kissing horizontally to the hollow of her throat. Daesha's eyes closed, and she whimpered. "So responsive," he chuckled. She nudged his head back up and kissed him, biting his lip as hard as she could. She tasted a small amount of blood, and Scourge drove her into the strut, placing a hand behind her head to absorb the impact. She placed both hands on his jaws and kissed him harder, trying to suck the air from his lungs. When she finally pulled back, he was panting.

"You…too," she panted mockingly. Scourge gazed down at her, his red eyes filling with determination. His hand wandered down her stomach. She glanced up at him suspiciously, but his face was completely neutral. He leaned forward and kissed her again, stroking his fingers around her naval. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, swirling it around her own while his fingers wandered lower and lower. He finally found what he wanted, and Daesha's hips bucked into his. She panted as he teased her, shaking her head until he stopped. "Not here," she gasped. He groaned and buried his face in her neck. She shivered when his facial tendrils brushed her clavicle, and he kissed his way down her chest to the middle of her sternum. Daesha giggled at the action, and he looked up at her. His eyes became devious, and he grinned like a Nelvaan wolf.

"You are right, of course," he whispered in her ear. "We don't have time for a proper sendoff."

"How long would that take?" she chuckled.

"Hours for a short one. Days, for what I have planned," he promised. Daesha shivered and looked at him. "But I have to go, unfortunately."

"What? You're not coming back with me?" she asked.

"I really do need to find Revan," he said. He leaned into her ear again. "And you deserve to wait as I have had to."

"But-" she started before he cut her off with another kiss.

"No arguments," he said. "You have your mission; I have mine."

"Are you…will you actually come back?" she asked.

"With the knowledge that this is waiting? I might kill Revan outright if he refuses to help me," he murmured. Daesha laughed. Scourge buried his face in her neck and inhaled her scent. He leaned up and kissed her again, lingering until Daesha's head was reeling. He set her down and they walked back to the speeder.

"Happy hunting," she grinned.

"May the Force be with you," he said before turning and striding towards the ship. Daesha watched until the ship had lifted off, staring into the sky. She touched a hand to her swollen lips and smiled. There was a peace in her heart, for the first time in many days.


	10. Chapter 10

Tatooine was where the scum of the galaxy hid. Daesha couldn't think of a place she disliked more. The Shock Drum experience had sealed this place's reputation in her mind (Praven's redemption had been the only good part of that whole debacle), and she suddenly wished that the Council had seen fit to send them any other place in the galaxy. Even Dromund Kaas would have seemed a better destination. At least on the Sith homeworld, there was some semblance of order. Much of the population was enslaved, but at least the Imperials had the decency to be unrepentant about it, instead of hiding it like cowards on some Outer Rim dustball. Daesha took a deep breath and centered herself in the Force. _There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no passion, there is serenity, _she repeated until the irritation evaporated out of her. Being raised by Twi'leks, Daesha had learned a deep hatred of slavery from an early age. Her parents had resettled from Ryloth, and both still refused to speak of their experiences on the homeworld. Perhaps it was for the best. As a teenager, Daesha's main failure had been her prejudice towards slavers. Master Coren had spent many years teaching her to control her baser emotions, but she still struggled with them occasionally. She knew that this mission would be unpleasant, and it would be a test of that control. She welcomed the challenge.

Daesha glanced out the viewport of the bridge, contemplating. Tatooine by day was harsh, as were the people that lived here. If one wasn't strong, he did not survive. The ocher sand blew past as the wind screamed, and Daesha welcomed the sandstorm that she knew was coming. It would delay their trip to Anchorhead by at least a day, and it would give her some much-needed time to meditate. She had spent the last three days in hyperspace studying the mission, but learning names and locations would not help her in the manner she truly needed. Only wrapping herself in the light side of the Force, allowing herself to center and focus on her compassion for the slaves, rather than her hatred of the slavers, would prepare her for what was to come. She needed strength; she needed focus; and she needed compassion. Only those could erase the seething cesspool of anger that writhed in her chest.

Daesha placed a hand to her head and sighed. She could almost hear Scourge's "advice" now. _Hatred is a natural emotion. When you release the control the Council has drilled into you, when you embrace the passion that is buried inside, then you will have discovered your true strength. Only the dark side can give you the intensity, the focus, to do what must be done_. In their mission to kill the Emperor, she had actually taken his advice, and it had worked. But not without its price. She shivered and hugged herself, remembering the feel of Dromund Kaas. The entire planet had felt like a graveyard. Her bones had grown cold upon touching down on the surface, and she had not been warm again until they left. The dark side was insidious; how had Scourge managed to live there for so long? She knew that his perception of it was vastly different from hers. He had once described it as a fire that spread from his chest outwards. It comforted him, gave him focus and strength in the numb hell that had been his existence. Now that he was mortal again, she had no idea how he perceived it. He had left too quickly to tell her. Daesha sighed. She missed him, and she was ashamed of how attached she had become to him. Every time she walked past his quarters, she was tempted to peek inside, just to see if he might be there by some miracle of the Force. But the only things in the room were the trophies (inclusing his Cross of Glory) and weapons he had left behind. At least that was a consolation. She knew that if there was one thing he would never leave behind permanently, it was his weapons_. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace_. This was why the Jedi forbade attachments, and she understood now more clearly than ever. Her attention was divided, and she had to put him out of her mind. She needed focus, and she would find it…eventually. Daesha headed back to her quarters, eager to begin her meditations.

* * *

Scourge's eyes snapped open at the sensations filling the cargo bay. For a moment, he thought he was back on the _Shield_, but he quickly recognized that he wasn't in his quarters. He was on a pallet in the cargo bay of some rusted freighter named _Loretta's Lamen_t or some such nonsense. After departing Tython, he had switched ships on Coruscant and was now headed towards the Outer Rim. Why he had chosen this particular ship escaped him at the moment, but he knew that he was headed in the right direction. After conversing with the Jedi Council, Revan had disappeared. There were rumors he had been spotted at the Foundry but had disappeared in a flash of light. Whether or not that was true, Scourge did not know. What he did know was the pull of the Force, and at the moment, he felt it calling him into the furthest reaches of the galaxy. The ship itself was headed for Ord Mantell, and Scourge did not know where he would go after that.

However, that was not what had woken him. Scourge's hand clutched his lightsaber, suddenly ready to kill someone. Or, rather, two someones who were engaged in carnal activities at the moment. Normally, he would not have cared; if two beings wanted to amuse themselves in such a manner, it was not his business. But this was the second time in the last week that he had been awakened in this manner. The only difference was that now, it wasn't two Jedi who were defying the Code by embracing their passions. And he couldn't go curse Daesha to the nine Corellian hells that she was so fond of talking about. Instead, it two teenage Zabraks who had been lusting after each other since they first entered the ship. Sometimes the ability to feel the Force was a curse. Since everything still felt so sharp, he was able to feel the Zabraks' lust painfully. It was like a knife being stabbed into his lower abdomen, piercing and unrepentant. Perhaps it was the furor of their passion, but Scourge didn't care. At the moment, all he wanted was one night of solid sleep uninterrupted by that horned duo and their kriffing hormones. He dragged a hand down his face and sighed. It would be easy enough to kill them; he had more than enough experience to make it quick and silent. But, come morning, there would be the bodies to explain, and Scourge did not wish to be delayed in his mission. The two were hardly worth it. He rose and headed for the main hold. They didn't even stop when he passed by, the girl's pleasured sighs mixing in with the boy's muffled groans. Scourge rolled his eyes. Younglings.

When he reached the hold, he poured a cup of caff and slumped down at the empty dejarik table. The table tipped when his knees hit it, and he kicked it away from himself. The action earned an annoyed hiss, and he looked over to see a green Twi'lek picking an empty cup off the floor. "Watch it," she snapped, placing her cup back on the small table. Scourge shrugged and took a sip of his drink. Irritation flared from her Force presence, and Scourge drank it in eagerly. She sat silently for a moment, studying him. He was dressed in black tunics with the hood pulled up. During the day, he kept his cowl over his face, but here it would be useless. "You're a Sith," she breathed, hands clutching the cup tightly. He could sense the awe radiating from her. He remained silent, and she leaned forward eagerly. "What are you doing in Republic space? Have you defected from the Empire?" Scourge stiffened, wishing suddenly that he had stayed in the cargo hold. At least there, he wouldn't be interrogated. "Have you been in any battles? Do you carry a lightsaber?" Scourge's grip on his mug became tighter and tighter.

"It is never wise to ask questions you don't want the answers to," he finally growled, glaring over at her. She glanced down in embarrassment. Oddly enough, he could sense no fear in her.

"I apologize," she said, rising to refill her cup. She filled it halfway with cream, and his mind flashed to Daesha. He wished they'd had more time together before he had left, time to break (or at least bend) that Code she valued so much. However, their missions took them in different directions. As much as he knew they both would have enjoyed what he had planned, he had not been lying to Praven. He didn't seek just to sate his lust with Daesha's body. Three centuries of no physical contact had taught him to be patient.

He had long wondered what the Jedi from his vision would be like. When he had seen her on Quesh, his mind had become consumed. After joining her crew, he had become obsessed. Her petite stature belied what was inside of her, the strength and power. Her core was light; he had slowly begun to accept that after all this time. However, he could feel the passion inside of her, for all that she tried to restrain it. He had gotten a brief glimpse of it before he left; and he would not rest until he unleashed and gorged off it. To be near Daesha was to feel her power, yet she was not the same as Revan. To be near Revan had been like looking into a star, his intensity and force of will almost blinding. Revan was pure power; it defined him. Daesha was elusive, her power contained and reserved. Revan had embraced his, whereas Daesha sought to limit hers to that of an average Jedi. It was a waste, and what frustrated Scourge about her most. She refused to release her control. If only she would let him teach her the true nature of the Force, she could become so much more. He wanted to reveal her power, to consume it and teach her how to harness it. He wanted to see her completely lose control, to feel her passion and strength through the Force. He longed to dominate her, and Scourge smiled in anticipation. He _would_ possess her.

A light chuckle broke him out of his musings. The Twi'lek had retaken her seat, and she was sipping her drink. "You are very distracted," she smiled. Scourge lifted an eye ridge. "Whoever you were thinking of must be quite a woman, if you didn't hear those two finish."

"You could hear them?" Scourge asked skeptically.

"Twi'leks have very good hearing," she sighed. "Sometimes it has its advantages, but tonight was not one of those times."

"At least you did not wake up to it," Scourge said.

"Oh, yes, I did," she snorted. "Although I'm surprised by that. When you grow up with brothers, you learn to drown out the sound of…things."

"Indeed," Scourge deadpanned. He took another sip of caff quietly.

"I almost wish my sister were here. She would've set them straight within five seconds. But, she also would've given me a lecture on how not to eavesdrop on people, and that I need to respect their privacy and all that stupid sh- stuff," she smiled. "She also would've been telling me not to ask so many questions and that I need to go to sleep before I annoy someone."

"Your sister sounds like a wise woman," Scourge hissed. "Perhaps you should take her advice."

"She is a Jedi," the Twi'lek shrugged. "So I guess she knows best." Scourge glanced at her but said nothing. "So, where are you headed?" Scourge's grip tightened on his mug, and he was about to reprimand the girl when a voice sounded from the cargo bay. A tall green Twi'lek male stepped out of the shadows, rubbing his face sleepily.

"Teeubo, come back to bed and stop bothering that poor man," he instructed. He came over to the table and crossed his arms. The girl had the decency to look down at her boots.

"But I didn't wake him. And I can't sleep with those two doing that," she argued.

"They're done, so you can come back to sleep. You are already in enough trouble, and you know that Vuren will be furious if he finds you missing. Your little stunt on Coruscant saw to that," the man said.

"Karawn, don't make me feel guilty," she said. "I wasn't going to cause any trouble."

"No arguments, _numali_. Come to bed now, before Vuren finds us missing," he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to her feet. He turned to Scourge and bowed his head slightly. "I apologize for her behavior. Hopefully she didn't bother you too much." With that, he pulled the girl back to the cargo hold. Scourge shook his head and finished the last of his caff. He closed his eyes and reached out into the Force, thankful to find that the two Zabraks were truly finished. He headed back to his pallet, glancing down at the Twi'leks when he passed them. The girl was nestled between two green males, her eyes moving rapidly as she dreamed. Well, that hadn't taken long. He strode by and laid back down. Maybe, if the Force was merciful, he could get some sleep tonight.

* * *

_There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no death, there is the Force. There is no emotion, there is peace. _Daesha repeated the mantra to herself for the twentieth time. With her eyes closed, she imagined a clear Alderaani stream, like the one that she and Master Coren had seen during their mission to secure a peace negotiation between two squabbling houses. The crystal waters flowed through her mind, cooling the anger and washing it away and into the Force. As her mind was cleansed, she felt a comforting numbness descend into her soul. Here, in the wake of the Force, was peace. Regardless of what the Sith might believe, it was not a lie. It was ecstasy, being wrapped in the light's warm embrace. For a precious few moments, the war was gone. The distasteful mission ahead of her was gone. The temptation that Scourge presented was gone. Only the light existed, flooding her body and possessing her mind. The tenseness in her muscles drained away, and she sagged slightly. Her mind was focused solely on the intensity of the moment, not straying or trying to work out fifteen problems at once. Her heart rate slowed and her breathing evened out in perfect harmony to her mental state. Her comm buzzed like an annoying insect. It took Daesha a moment to come out of her trance, and she groaned. Would she never get a chance to achieve personal peace? She called the device over and switched it on. The small representation of a female Twi'lek glanced up at her, and Daesha broke into a smile.

"Seela," she grinned, standing up from the floor of her quarters.

"Daesha," her sister smiled back. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to disturb you."

"It's fine," Daesha assured her. "I always have time for you, love. How have you been?"

Seela shrugged, and the holoimage of a ball bounced against one of her legs. She turned aside and yelled in Ryl, the tips of her lekku quivering slightly. An answering whine sounded from the holo, and Daesha chuckled. Seela threw the ball out of the image before turning back to her. "It's the same as always. The little monsters are running amuck without their father, though."

"What do you mean, without?" Daesha asked.

Seela held up a hand in placation. "Vuren and Karawn went to Coruscant on a business trip. They should be back within three days. I'm about to start tugging on my lekku, Dae. The twins are so energetic without Vuren here."

"Mother hasn't been helping you with them?" Daesha asked in surprise. "She had me under the impression that she couldn't get enough of them."

"Oh, she is helping me with them. They wore her out already. But she's been so worried about Teeubo that she has had trouble sleeping," Seela sighed. "You know how she is."

Daesha smiled indulgently. "She is a mother to her core, Seela. That will never change, regardless of how old Tee gets."

"Please, Teeubo isn't old enough to tie her own shoelaces. I'll never understand why father agreed to let her go with them. Coruscant is no place for a child," Seela groused. "Especially for one that curious."

"Three years isn't much of an age difference. You were Teeubo's age when you and Vuren…came together," Daesha smirked playfully.

"And look how that turned out," Seela snorted as a toy sailed past her head. "Two little monsters later, and I'm barely beginning to learn what I'm doing."

"Maybe you'll have better luck with the next one," Daesha smiled. Seela placed a hand over her pregnant stomach and glared mockingly at her sister. "Either that, or they will all gang up on you."

"That sounds more likely," Seela admitted. "At least Mother will have another little one to sing to. The twins are almost past the lullaby stage. Maybe this new little one will keep them in it longer; it would make putting them to sleep much easier."

"Indeed," Daesha agreed.

Seela grinned teasingly. "And when can we expect a little Jedi from you, Hero of Tython? Certainly it is past time for you to embrace the adventures of motherhood." Daesha laughed and glanced down.

"Not all of us are lucky enough to meet someone like Vuren so young, Seela. Consider yourself fortunate," she replied.

"No avoiding the question," Seela chided, wagging a finger. "I can't have all the grandchildren in this family."

"You and Vuren certainly try hard enough," Daesha chuckled. "I would face consequences should I ever develop an attachment like that. I would be forced to either give the child up or resign from the Order. Besides, you know I don't want children."

Seela raised an eyebrow in disdain. "You're just scared, Dae. You can't lie to your sister."

"If you insist on believing that," Daesha shrugged. "What was it you needed, anyways?"

Seela grimaced. "I actually did comm you for a reason, and it's not good, _numa_."

"What's happened?" Daesha inquired. "Is everything all right?"

"Vuren commed me earlier this morning. Apparently, Tee got into some trouble on Coruscant. She disappeared for almost three hours while Vuren and Karawn were occupied. They didn't know she was missing until they were done with their meeting. She didn't answer their comms, and they actually had to involve the Coruscant Security Force. They found her in a cantina on the lower levels. Normally, that would have been bad enough, but it was in a district controlled by the Raquors, Daesha. Who knows what might have happened? I have never seen Vuren so angry. Karawn told me that he has refused to let Teeubo out of his sight since."

"I take it they haven't told father yet?" Daesha asked.

"No," Seela answered. "They were going to wait until they reached home. But I thought perhaps you could speak to Tee, make her see the error of her ways. Karawn told me that she is embarrassed by what happened, but he doesn't think she understands the severity of the whole thing. He was hoping you might help her see. She listens to you."

"Neither of you ever listen to me," Daesha snorted. "But I will speak with her."

"Thank you. Perhaps the words of a Jedi will take better than mine did," Seela said.

Daesha was silent for a moment. "Seela, my standing as a Jedi shouldn't mean anything. Teeubo should know better than this," she sighed. "There is no excuse for her behavior. She needs to begin understanding the risk her actions pose not only to herself but also to this family. If anything ever happened to her, mother would never survive the shock."

"Don't say things like that," Seela whispered, glancing sideways to where Daesha guessed their mother was resting on a couch. "Do not tempt fate."

"Teeubo plays sabacc with the fates," Daesha said. "Besides, the lecture I give her will be nothing compared to when father finds out. Vuren's anger will pale in comparison. Teeubo will be lucky if she ever leaves the farm again."

"He will not be pleased," Seela agreed. "But, Daesha, promise me that you won't be too harsh with her. I only…well, I contacted you because I knew you would be able to keep the right frame of mind. Teeubo needs logic right now, not anger. She'll get enough of that when she gets home."

Daesha smiled. "Seela, I promise that I will tell her what she needs to hear. You know I would never try to hurt her, but she needs to learn that her actions have consequences. I will tell her the truth." Off to the side of the holo, Daesha heard one of her nephews start crying. Seela glanced over and sighed.

"Dae, I'll talk to you later, after I put these two down for their nap. Thank you for the help," she said.

"You can always comm me, Seela," Daesha promised. "I'm glad to help."

"I love you," Seela smiled sweetly.

Daesha hesitated only a second before answering. Undoubtedly, the Council would not approve of her keeping tabs on her family. However, nonattachment was one thing; family was another. "I love you too, _numa_."


	11. Chapter 11

Scourge hurled his vibroshiv at a crate. It struck dead center, quivering until he recalled it with the Force. He tapped his fingers against his knee and repeated the action for the fifteenth time. Only three more hours until they reached Ord Mantell. He had a relative amount of solitude in this part of the cargo hold, and for that he was grateful. He had woken again to the smell of frying nuna eggs. The captain of the ship hadn't charged much for passage aboard the vessel, and Scourge could understand why, with the meager sleeping accommodations. But apparently, the man's wife was determined to feed everyone aboard. Scourge had retrieved his food and retreated to the privacy of his pallet, but not before he had made sure to glower at two particular Zabraks who were still curled around each other at the small dejarik table. The Twi'lek from last night had skipped past him and waved, and he had studiously ignored her. In better lighting, he had realized that she was much younger than he had previously thought. She couldn't have been more than fifteen standard years. Her men had followed behind, and one had nodded in greeting. The other had just been glaring at the girl's back. Scourge had left it be. Whatever squabbles the three had were of no concern to him. All that mattered was finding Revan. When he reached Ord Mantell, he wasn't sure where to begin looking. Hopefully, the Force would provide some aid. If it didn't, he might be searching for a very long time. Scourge heard a rustling behind the crates he leaned against, and he turned. The Force was filled with anxiety, and the little Twi'lek from earlier stepped into his view. The man flanked her, his arms crossed. Scourge scowled, even though he knew they wouldn't be able to see it behind his cowl. Why did this child's goal in life seem to be his annoyance? She glanced down at her boots, lekku twitching almost imperceptibly. A light blush colored her green face, and she folded her hands together.

"Tee, say what you need to say," the man instructed sternly.

Scourge felt her irritation flare, but she did not give voice to it. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night. I was wrong to bother you when you obviously wanted to be left alone. I hope that you can forgive me," she said. Scourge wanted to reply that her apology was even more of an annoyance, but he merely nodded. Hopefully, that would be enough to make the pair leave. It was not to be.

"I wanted to thank you for your patience, as well. We had a bit of a run-in with some characters on Coruscant. She is lucky that you were not as dangerous as them," the male Twi'lek added, glaring at the girl pointedly. This time, she had the presence to glare back. Scourge bit back a snarl at the man's assumption, but he hurled the shiv at the crate again, knowing that it hit the target perfectly. The man frowned, and the girl's eyes widened in awe. Scourge recalled the knife with the Force.

"Assume nothing, Twi'lek," he warned. "I hunt more dangerous things than adolescent females. I prefer prey that can actually challenge me."

"Indeed," the man said, placing a hand protectively on the girl's shoulder. He pulled her back before turning to leave. The pair departed, and Scourge strapped the shiv back to his thigh. Only two hours and fifty minutes left. He leaned his head back against the crate and sighed.

* * *

_The night was still, but Scourge could feel the promise of action waiting on the horizon. It was in the back of his mind, the feeling of being watched as he walked through the grassy plains. A cold breeze stirred the dead foliage, and he stopped. Scourge heard a faint whispering, like the rustling of leaves; a shiver trailed down his spine. He recalled the tales from his youth, the adolescent rumors that ghosts haunted the academy on Dromund Kaas. When he and his allies had grown bored, they would journey to the abandoned part of the temple, daring each other to go further and further. He had often felt the presence of a spirit in the ancient passageways. At the time, he had thought it was just his imagination. Over time, he had learned better. The whispering continued, and he stood still. He felt no malice in the Force, but he also realized there was more than one spirit. Finally, one of them spoke. _

_ "You violate the temple with your presence," it whispered. "The dark side has no place here."_

_ "I have not come to corrupt your temple," he answered. "I come seeking an old ally."_

_ "An ally?" a familiar voice chuckled. Scourge felt a presence behind him, and he turned to see the pale representation of Meetra Surik. "I hardly think you qualify as allies, Scourge."_

_ Scourge swallowed, disconcerted by the ghost of the woman he'd slain long ago. In theory, they were fascinating. In reality, they were a unique experience. She gazed at him calmly, though. He could sense no anger or desire for revenge. "Perhaps not, given our history. But he is one of the few Jedi I can tolerate," Scourge said. "I seek his knowledge."_

_ "He will not be willing to part with it so easily," Meetra warned, holding up a hand. "Do not expect a warm welcome. Events of late have left him…conflicted. Time has changed his perspectives."_

_ "As well they should," Scourge agreed. "But Revan is the only Jedi who can help me find what I seek."_

_ "And what is that?" Meetra asked. _

_ "You can hardly expect me to answer that question," he replied. _

_ "You've already killed me, Sith. I'm not a threat to you," she chuckled. "I can hardly draw my lightsaber and attack. Whatever happened to it, anyways?"_

_ Scourge hesitated a moment before answering. "I collected it upon leaving the Emperor's throne room. It stayed in my private collection on Dromund Kaas. I did not have it with me when I chose to defect. As for its location now, I cannot say."_

_ "Ah, well, it hardly matters now," she sighed. "Do you ever regret the actions you took?" _

_ "No," Scourge answered. Meetra raised an eyebrow, but he continued. "I'll admit that your death was not what I desired. Given better circumstances, I would have chosen a different path. But I did what was necessary to complete my vision. Although it took three centuries, your sacrifice eventually saved trillions of lives."_

_ "I know Revan will not see it that way now. It is a consolation, though. But a small one, given what you took from me," she smiled bitterly. Scourge could sense her regret in the Force, and he cocked his head. She blinked and glanced down. "I had a lover waiting for me, when I left to find Revan. Jaq eventually went on to become a Jedi. He died, thinking I'd abandoned him. My loyalty to Revan was the only thing strong enough to tear me away from him, and I wanted nothing more than to return to his embrace. But we both know how that turned out."_

_ "That was an unfortunate outcome," Scourge nodded._

_ "He has long since been one with the Force. I feel him brush my presence now and then, seeking answers. I wait for Revan to be at peace, so that I can finally give them to him," she admitted. "I wait for the day that we can truly be one. But Revan will never have peace, until he can put his conflict aside."_

_ "Tell me where to find him," Scourge said. _

_ "The Force must guide you," Meetra instructed. "But the answer you seek is close. Be wise, and do not fight the Force's pull."_

Scourge woke to a hand on his shoulder. The little Twi'lek stared down at him, her brown eyes wide. He cursed, and she backed away several feet, waiting. Scourge stood and crossed his arms, glaring down at her. This ended _now_. "Twi'lek, if you do not leave me be, I will not be so merciful as this morning," he growled. "I am not to be trifled with." She gazed up at him, unperturbed. What came out of her mouth next made Scourge lift an eye ridge.

"Would you like to have lunch with us?" she asked, motioning back to her companions.

"What?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Lunch. Food," she repeated. "We still have two hours before Ord Mantell, and it's time to eat. We would welcome the company."

Scourge sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Will you never cease this vexation?" The girl blinked in confusion. "Leave me alone," he translated.

She hesitated for a moment. "You remind me of my sister," she admitted finally. "Since you're all Force-sensitive and everything. You're a lot meaner than her, but you seem lonely."

"I do not seek companionship," Scourge admonished. "And if I did, it would not be with children."

"My brothers aren't children," she argued. "We won't bite." Scourge opened his mouth to reply that he would start soon if she didn't leave, but a sudden impulse stopped him. The Force seemed to pull him towards her like a magnet. As the seconds ticked by, he became more sure. He could almost feel the hands on his back, pushing him forward. He frowned fiercely but decided to heed the advice from his dream.

"As you wish," he nodded. The girl's tattooed eyebrows shot up in surprise, and a wide grin split her face. Her happiness flooded the Force for a brief second, and she pulled him with her towards the other Twi'leks.

"Vuren, Karawn, we have a guest," she burbled, pulling him into their circle of crates. One's mouth dropped open, and the other stiffened rigidly. Scourge lowered his cowl. Both brothers frowned upon seeing his face.

"Teeubo, you are in enough trouble. Do not make things worse," one seethed. "Once Ilar hears of this…"

"Vuren," the other interrupted, motioning for Scourge to sit. The girl bounded over to him and sat down. "My name is Karawn, stranger. This is my sister, Teeubo; and this is our brother-in-law, Vuren." Scourge nodded in acknowledgment.

"What's your name?" Teeubo asked, grinning widely.

"Not important," Scourge answered, raising an eye ridge.

"You are right on that account," Vuren ground out.

"Vuren, please. Have something to eat," Teeubo said, rustling through her bag and handing him two strips of blackened nerf jerkey. Karawn smiled apologetically and shook his head. Scourge sat cross-legged beside Karawn and tried the strange-smelling meat. The first bite nearly broke his teeth, and he grimaced. He pulled the bite off with some effort, and the men both chuckled. The youngling smiled in chagrin. "That would be the first batch I've made in almost a year. Seela said I didn't tenderize it correctly. I guess she was right."

"A pity is was still edible," Vuren snorted. "We have nothing else to eat until Ord Mantell." Scourge stopped chewing and held the other slice out to him.

"I insist," he said.

"Oh, no. I would never steal food from the mouth of a stranger," Vuren laughed sarcastically. "To do so would be a great dishonor." Scourge glared at him, and Teeubo started laughing.

"Among Twi'lek society, it is customary to share what we do have, even if there is not much. To give back a gift, especially food, is a great insult. Even if the food is not so…desirable," Karawn explained.

"I'll pay better attention next time," Teeubo promised.

"If Seela lets you back in the kitchen, I will lock her in our room for fear that she's gone mad," Vuren retorted.

"I'm sure she'll mind that sooo much," Teeubo replied suggestively, "especially given she's in her fourth month and how often I catch you two going at it."

"Teeubo," Karawn hissed. "No one wants to hear that!"

"Well, it's true!" she scoffed. "Why do you think I wanted to get away? Every night, I hear their bed hitting the wall."

"That's enough," Karawn snapped. "Do not dig your grave deeper. Strangers do not need to hear our family's private matters."

"It matters nothing to me," Scourge shrugged, taking another bite of the rock-hard jerkey.

"My wife is pregnant," Vuren explained. Scourge sighed in exasperation. Did this whole family believe that their inner workings were his main concern? "She has been…hormonal of late."

Teeubo rolled her eyes. "And by 'hormonal', he means horn-" Vuren threw a strip of the meat at her, striking her on the forehead. Her mouth dropped open, and she quickly returned the favor. Karawn reached over and snatched it away from his brother. He shook his head.

"If only Dae could see you now," he reprimanded. "She would tell you both that you're acting like children." The comment caught Scourge off guard, and he gazed at Karawn curiously. He felt a tugging in the back of his mind, a foresight perhaps. The way these Twi'leks talked, their mannerisms, suddenly seemed very familiar. He recalled the way the girl had taken her caff last night, the way she stood, the men's accents, and the tilt of their heads when they said certain phrases. He took stock of their presences in the Force, the easy way they conversed and the quick way they had taken him into their circle. Only one other person he knew acted like that. Did the Force truly work in such mysterious ways? The little Twi'lek had mentioned that her sister was a Jedi, but certainly, it could not be Daesha? She was no Twi'lek. Although, the more he thought of it, the more he realized it was plausible. Daesha and Ven were both Ryl words, and she was fluent in the language. Her attitude mirrored that of Teeubo's, although she was far more mature.

"I might believe it, from her," Teeubo muttered mutinously.

"Who is your sister?" Scourge finally asked. Karawn's eyes narrowed slightly, but he answered.

"Aside from Seela, we have only one other sister. Her name is Daesha; she is a Jedi Knight," he replied. "The galaxy knows her better as the Hero of Tython." Scourge nodded, feigning vague recognition. The less these Twi'leks knew about him, the better. The fewer complications he had, the more quickly he could find Revan. And the more quickly that was accomplished, the more quickly he could get back to his less-than-honorable goal of corrupting their sister.

"The Hero of Tython is your sister?" he asked disbelievingly. "But she is no Twi'lek."

Karawn shook his head mournfully. "We have all heard the way your government treats our people, Sith. We are only slaves in your world, but things are different here. Our parents were both from Ryloth, but they resettled to a small farming world called Keeli. After my brother Nabat and I were born, our mother was told she would have no more children. She went into a deep depression, and our father took her away to Ithor for a month. When they returned, they brought Daesha back as well. They found her in a pile of trash during their layover on Corellia. She is only a year younger than I am biologically, but she was always…different. She seemed too old for her body, and she always knew when things were about to happen. She was seven when the Jedi found her. Master Coren was running a reconnaissance mission on our world, and he ran into our father. He invited him to stay with us during his time there. The first time he saw Daesha, he knew what she would become. Our parents were reluctant to let her go, but he assured them that she had a great destiny. He took her as his apprentice, and time has proved him correct."

"You know what she would say to that," Teeubo laughed. "She would start lecturing you about pride."

"She is very good at lecturing," Karawn agreed. "The Jedi taught her well with that, at least." The comlink at his belt began beeping, and he answered it. Scourge felt the surge in the Force before the image appeared. "Speak of the nexu," Karawn joked as Daesha's image appeared. She placed a hand on one hip, tilting in the way that Scourge remembered so vividly.

"And just why do you have Tee's comlink?" she asked.

"I took it from her after Coruscant. She is lucky I didn't smash it," Karawn snorted. "How are you?" Daesha bowed her head, and Karawn sat forward in concern.

"I've had better weeks, _nerra_," she sighed. "My heart is heavy, and this whole situation has not helped. Seela contacted me and asked for my help before you all reached home. She wanted me to talk to Teeubo before father got a chance to." Scourge noticed the way that the young Twi'lek paled at that. "She thought perhaps I could reason with her."

"I'm sure you can, but what else troubles you? I know this is not the only matter," Karawn asked.

"My latest mission is bound to be distasteful," Daesha revealed. "I also lost a member of my crew this week. He left us to seek personal enlightenment."

"I thought the Jedi were all for that," Karawn said in confusion.

"We are," she nodded. "But…still."

"You are just like Mother. You worry too much," Karawn smiled.

"Just let me speak to Tee," Daesha sighed. "I have much to say."

"I will, but we have a guest. Perhaps afterwards, you could work on him as well? He is proving most disagreeable," Karawn frowned.

"I will do my best, Karawn. But Teeubo comes first," she admonished. "Give her back the comlink." Scourge smirked as the girl took her comlink and stood. Daesha had crossed her arms again and was giving her the glare he received so often. "Good luck, Tee," Karawn winked.

"Shut up," Teeubo hissed. "Daesha, let me explain…" she trailed off as she walked away.

* * *

"Have you lost all sense, Teeubo? What in the name of the Force possessed you to go into the lower levels alone? That is something that even the most seasoned of Jedi Masters would do with caution. And they spend years honing their fighting skills. An adolescent girl with no weapons training is a ripe target. Do you realize what might have happened to you?" Daesha lectured. "You are just lucky that Vuren and Karawn managed to find you before…before someone else did."

"You worry too much," Teeubo sighed. "Nothing happened. Besides, I was having fun for the first time in forever. Things are so boring on the dam-on the farm."

"Where did you learn all these bad words?" Daesha asked crossly. "I know it wasn't from our parents."

"Oh, like _you_ never curse? Please, I could write a book on your colorful descriptions of the nine Corellian hells! You're the reason Seela got her mouth washed out until she was ten," Teeubo argued.

"I never taught you those words, _numali_," Daesha reprimanded. Teeubo frowned, and her voice rose.

"Don't call me that! I already get enough of it from Seela and Karawn, and I don't need it from you!" she argued. "I'm not a little girl!"

"Then start acting like it," Daesha commanded. "You're almost sixteen, and you are still acting like a toddler. The twins are more mature than you some days!"

"Oh, so just because you're a bigshot Jedi, you think have the right to tell me that? At least I'm there for Mom and Dad! When was the last time you even commed them? You haven't talked to Mom in almost a month! When she heard that you went to Drommund Kaas and faced the Emperor, do you know she actually fainted? It took us almost half an hour to revive her! Dad can't even remember what you look like! Not to mention that I had to tell you Seela was pregnant again! You're such a hypocrite sometimes!" Teeubo argued. Daesha glanced down in shame; although her sister was taking cheap shots, she still was correct. But this wasn't about her. It was about Teeubo and the very real risk she had put herself in. Still, admitting her failure to her youngest sister required Daesha to swallow her pride. It was not a pleasant sensation, but she knew that Teeubo would be more responsive if she gave her something.

"You are correct on that account, Teeubo. I should comm them more often, and you as well. I could make excuse after excuse about how saving the galaxy takes up my time or about Jedi nonattachment, but we both know the truth is I've just been…lazy. I don't want to have to face Dad's constant interference in my affairs. I don't want to have to admit that I missed my own nephews' birth just to stop some moronic Sith from destroying Tython. I don't want to acknowledge that I missed your birthday because I was on Balmorra stopping some rebels from getting run over by Imperials. Or that I'm going to likely miss Seela's new baby because of the war. And, worse, I don't want to admit that I'm worried for Mom," Daesha admitted. "That, more than anything, I want to avoid, even though trying to deny the truth goes against all my training." Teeubo bit her lip and looked down. The tips of her lekku quivered, and her eyes watered.

"Don't talk about that," she sniffled. Daesha regarded her silently, arms still crossed. Teeubo avoided her stare.

"You know what I'm going to say. If something ever happened to you, Mother might die from the shock. As much as we both want to pretend otherwise, that is the truth," Daesha lectured.

"Kriffing Jedi and your peace!" Teeubo hissed. "How can you say that as if it means nothing?"

"It does mean something," Daesha snarled. "But that doesn't change the fact that what I'm saying is true. Teeubo, do you realize what might have happened to you? The district that you were in is controlled by a group of gangsters called the Raquors. That cantina was only a mile away from their headquarters. You are so beautiful, so incredibly young and inexperienced. If someone had caught up to you before our brothers got there, do you realize what that means?" Teeubo refused to answer. "You could have been raped and sold into slavery, Tee. You would be at the mercy of strangers for the rest of your life, forced to do detestable things all for their sick amusement. You would never see any of us again, and you likely die on some unknown planet, completely alone. Is that what you want? Does that sound like adventure?"

"You know it's not what I want," Teeubo finally whispered before looking up at her. "I was just bored, Dae. I just wanted to have some fun; I never meant to hurt anybody."

"I know you didn't, but that doesn't change what might have happened. No one is saying that can't have a life brimming with adventure. But you need to gain some experience. You need to learn how to defend yourself, both physically and mentally. Ask Vuren to show you; within a year or two, you'll be ready to take on the whole galaxy," Daesha smiled.

"Never like you with that flashy sword," Teeubo chuckled. "I wish you'd teach me how to use that."

"You'd cut your hand off," Daesha laughed. "I almost have, several times." Teeubo smiled, and Daesha felt herself relax. She opened her mind to the light side, relishing the feel that only family could bring. She knew that the Code forbade attachment, but it was a strength here. Their support and love were one of the few anchors in her constantly changing life. It was similar to the connection she felt to her crew, although there had been a hole there since Scourge's departure.

"Are we…cool?" Teeubo finally asked.

"Of course we are, Tee," Daesha grinned. "Now, enough of this. Tell me about your trip." Teeubo bounced in place and did just that. Coruscant was so big and shiny. It was never quiet, and it smelled weird. The one shop that Karawn had taken her to had everything you could imagine, even turbolifts! There had been so many species, and she had finally seen a Cathar. There were so sleek and powerful. After they had gotten on _Loretta's Lament_ (that was a stupid name, huh?), she had met these two Zabraks that had started going at it. They were nice enough, but the man smelled like cheese. Where had he even found that much cheese? They had woken her up by having sex, although she wasn't really fazed by it. Since Seela had gotten pregnant again, she and Vuren were on each other all the _time_. It was so distracting and annoying! Vuren had been really agitated the whole time, and Teeubo thought it was because he hadn't gotten any in almost a week. Did Zabrak males get that antsy without any too? Speaking of Zabraks, she had met the most bad-ass guy the other night. He was scary, but he had knives. Actual vibroshivs! He was really tall, and he only wore black. Like a ninja! She had made him try some of her jerkey, but he hadn't liked it. At that, Daesha had begun laughing. Teeubo's lack of cooking skills was legendary.

"But, Daesha, you've got to meet this guy! He's so awesome, even if he doesn't like me," Teeubo grinned.

"Tee, it sounds like you have a little crush," Daesha chuckled. Teeubo's face screwed up, and she rolled her eyes as if the very idea was insulting.

"Ew. Um, no. He's red…like blood red! Thank you, but I prefer my men a different color," Teeubo scoffed. Daesha hesitated, the Force seeming to pull her towards her sister. She felt a niggling in the back of her mind, like fingers stroking against her spine. The hair on the back of her neck raised.

"Is he a Lethan or something?" Daesha asked.

"No, he's not a Twi'lek. He's an alien of some kind, I think a Sith," Teeubo grinned. "He's so exotic."

Daesha's mouth dropped open at that. "Let me…let me speak to him," she instructed.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Just as a precautionary measure, I'm letting everyone know that this chapter is rated M. I've had to bump up the story's rating, although I may bring it back down in a few chapters. I'm assuming we're all adults here, but it's better to be safe than sorry. That being said, I'm off to take a cold shower and see if I can stop blushing. :) _

* * *

Scourge gazed up at the girl's return, schooling his face to neutral. The Twi'lek skipped over and handed him the comlink before sitting beside Karawn. She was radiating with energy, and Scourge wondered how her brothers put up with it. He glanced down at Daesha's image. Her eyes were wide, her expression dumbfounded. Her arms hung limply at her sides, and Scourge recalled the way they had felt clinging to his neck. He hadn't had a chance to amuse himself in quite a while, and teasing her seemed like the perfect excuse. "Jedi," he greeted, inclining his head slightly. She blinked and stiffened, remembering that they had an audience.

"Sith," she nodded, crossing her arms. "It is an unexpected pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine. Although I must say that I wish it were under different circumstances," he said. "Your brother seems to think that you can redeem me."

"That is unlikely. However, the light is always waiting," she snorted.

"I do not seek the light," he murmured. "Rather, something much more alluring." Daesha raised an eyebrow.

"Please, enlighten me as to what could be more alluring than the light side of the Force. In its full power, it would leave you unable to do anything besides weep," she taunted. He gave her an indulgent smile, as if he were speaking to an errant child. She frowned.

"There are many things a man may seek. I am not held captive in my endeavors by an outdated Code. Instead, I pursue what I desire," he reminded her. Daesha fidgeted uncomfortably. When she looked back up, her gaze was determined.

"Only time will tell if you shall acquire it," she shot back. Scourge absently stroked the right tendril on his face before shrugging lazily.

"Oh, but I will," he disagreed. "The dark side holds more than the Jedi realize. Its power of corruption is unmatched."

"Corruption is not a goal worth seeking," Daesha glowered.

"Neither is false serenity or indulgent self-righteousness," Scourge argued.

"Then what do you seek?" Daesha inquired. Her expression softened, and Scourge remembered how pliant and warm she had been against him, before his departure. Her passion had been a marked contrast from the reserved Jedi Master he knew. She had felt so alive, her presence like the buzz of Alderaani wine. That was what he wanted to see, what he wanted to possess, more than anything. If they had been alone, he might have admitted it.

"That is a discussion for another day," he eluded. "For the moment, I believe your brother would be better conversation," Daesha leaned forward.

"We will speak again," she promised. It sounded like a threat.

"Indeed we will," he agreed. "Farewell." She nodded before Scourge handed the comlink back to Karawn. The Twi'lek took it, regarding him suspiciously. Scourge stood and left them, retreating back to the privacy of his pallet. He took a seat and began hurling his shivs at the crate again, relishing the small thud they made upon striking it. It only took ten minutes for the girl to find him again. Scourge gripped the shiv tightly and motioned her forward with his hand. She sat beside him.

"What was that all about?" she asked. Scourge glanced down at the shiv and remained silent. It was the one Daesha had given him; thankfully, it was not pink and yellow, but rather a sleek, dark brown. He ran his fingers along the hilt of it before placing it back in its holster. When he turned to face the girl, she was tugging on one of her lekku anxiously.

"My species embrace the dark side of the Force. Your sister and the Jedi embrace the light side. It is as simple as that," he said.

"So you can't embrace the light side?" Teeubo asked. "What could be so bad about it? Daesha never stops rambling about the peace it brings her. She's happy."

"Things among the Jedi are much more complicated than your sister lets on," Scourge said. "They have many practices that I disagree with." Teeubo studied him for a moment, and Scourge realized that her brown gaze was almost as piercing as Daesha's. She smiled suddenly, the kind a child might use when they cannot be convinced that they are wrong.

"You're scared to change," she deduced. Scourge's hands clenched into fists, and he rounded on her. He glared at her, and she only gazed back. He thought he understood now why Daesha had never seemed intimidated by him. Growing up with brothers must have numbed her to any attempts at it.

"Be careful, young one," he growled. "Her standing will not save you, should you choose to antagonize me." Teeubo snorted before a faraway look glazed over her eyes. Scourge could feel a small surge of power around her, and it confused him. It was not the Force; that he knew. Yet she had an energy of some kind. She blinked rapidly before coming out of the small trance.

"I won't ask you what you seek," she said. "But if you're looking for your friend, you'll find him on Dantooine." Scourge raised an eye ridge in surprise. Meetra had been telling the truth in his dream; although he had never expected this youngling to be the one to guide him. "We have a cousin there, a man named Jor Passick. He may be able to help you find what you're looking for."

"Why are you helping me?" Scourge asked suspiciously. Teeubo smiled.

"Compassion is the lifeblood of the universe. Without it, what would we become?" she shrugged. "We live by that philosophy, especially Daesha. Besides, the day may come when we need a big, scary Sith to owe us a favor."

Scourge smirked, impressed by her pragmatism. "Indeed, Twi'lek." Teeubo grinned.

"Happy hunting," she said, squeezing his shoulder before returning to her brothers.

* * *

The sound of the chirping comm woke Scourge, and he slammed his hand down on it. Would he never get a full night's rest again? The sounds of speeder traffic filled his head, and he dazedly remembered that he was on Ord Mantell, resting in some cheap motel before his departure tomorrow morning. He had finally located a freighter to take him to Dantooine, and from there, he knew it would not take long to find Jor Passick. He wasn't sure if Teeubo had informed the man of his impending arrival, but it mattered little. He had more than enough credits to pay the Twi'lek for his trouble. The comm chirped again, and he turned it on. For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming when Daesha came into view. She was dressed in sleep clothes, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?" she asked. Scourge pushed himself up on one elbow and shook his head. She glanced down, and he remembered that he wasn't wearing anything. "Are you-could you please put on a shirt?" she requested.

"Am I distracting you, Jedi?" he asked. Daesha glared up at him, and he could almost see her blushing. He was surprised she could be so modest. She had seen him like this in the medical bay before, and he had certainly seen her there, with less on. Daesha winked.

"You are…an impressive specimen, I will admit," she flirted. "I have yet to meet anyone who has your prowess in combat."

"If you think that's impressive, wait until you see my prowess in other areas," he smirked. Daesha rolled her eyes.

"Don't tease me, Sith," she protested. "I eagerly await your return." Scourge studied her, noting that she was wearing shorts and a tank top. Wherever they were, it must have been an arid environment.

"Where have the Council seen fit to send you now?" he asked.

"Tatooine, unfortunately," Daesha answered. "The heat is oppressive. The task we're facing is difficult enough without having thoughts of you flitting through my head."

"That depends entirely on the type of thought," he drawled.

"I should know better than to expect any sympathy," she sighed. "Like asking a rancor to take up meditation."

"Meditation is like beating one's head against a rock, for those who embrace the darkness. And no self-respecting rancor would try it. They are brave, powerful…dangerous," he murmured.

"Also reckless, ugly, and quick-tempered," Daesha shot back, crossing her arms. Scourge raised an eye ridge at her.

"You think me ugly?" he asked. She only smiled down at her feet. "You certainly didn't seem to think that before I departed Tython. And my looks didn't play any factor when you were whimpering from the pleasure I was bringing you." She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "And do not try to deny it. I could feel your passion so strongly at that moment…it was intoxicating." Daesha rubbed the back of her neck nervously, still studying her feet.

"You have your appeal," she finally smiled before looking up at him. "I won't deny my attraction to you, Scourge. But that is not actually why I commed you."

"And that would be?" he asked.

"I told you we would speak again, and I need answers. This whole incident is disturbing. How in the name of the Force did you find my family? Were you…planning this?" she hesitated.

"It was mere coincidence," he assured her. "I had not realized how they were related to you until just before you contacted the girl. Your brother had just finished relaying your less-than-impressive origins to me." Daesha's eyes narrowed. "Although your disposition towards unnecessary acts of compassion makes more sense now."

"Without the compassion of my parents, I would be dead," Daesha shrugged. "They took me into their lives when they didn't have to, and I owe them for that. To try to pass that favor on, in whatever ways I can, is the least I can do."

"Excuses," Scourge scoffed. "Just another reason for you to follow the dogmatic strictures of the Jedi."

"And if it weren't for the compassion of two Twi'leks, Scourge, how would your vision have gone? Your 'champion' would have been dead before her life even had a chance to begin. The galaxy itself would have reaped the consequences of one woman's decision to abandon her child in a dumpster instead of leaving her at a hospital. Kira might have fallen back to the Sith on Angral's cruiser. Doc would still be with the Balmorran resistance, and Rusk would still be stuck on Hoth. You would still be connected to that insane _di'kut_," she argued.

"You argument has merit," Scourge finally admitted.

"I know you don't agree with the things that I do, but I do them for a reason," Daesha said. "Not just some personal need to save everyone. You never know if the simplest action of mercy will save a life, or the whole galaxy, in some cases." Scourge sneered at the thought of mercy, but he could not deny the logic of her arguments. Without her mercy, he knew that he would still be trapped by his curse, unable to feel or hope. He was struck again by the urge to repay her, and he wished that she were in the room with him. He could overcome her resistance, break down her barriers until she finally let him show her the kind of pleasure she had given him. Her voice broke him out of his thoughts. "What did you think of my brothers and sister?"

"Your sister is quite irritating, and your brothers are far too protective," Scourge answered easily. "Her rebellious streak will only grow, if they continue to suffocate her. Better to let her make a foolish mistake and suffer the consequences. Only experience can teach some beings."

"You do not know what happened," Daesha said. "The consequences in this case might have been catastrophic to her and the entire family. She got away from them on Coruscant and disappeared into the underworld for almost three hours. They found her in a club only one block away from the Raqours' headquarters," Daesha informed him. "Luckily they found her before someone else did."

"And the Raqours are?" Scourge asked.

"Dangerous gangsters who specialize in the sex trade. A beautiful, inexperienced young Twi'lek is just a muja ripe for the taking in their eyes," she answered. "I learned about them in my years before Tython, when Master Coren and I were trying to find an arms dealer selling cloaked weapons to the Imperials. His base of operations was in their territory. Caden kept me close during that mission." She remained silent after that, yet Scourge could sense the anger behind her words.

"You have something else to say," he prodded.

"My father knows the group as well, I suspect. He and my mother refuse to discuss their experiences on Ryloth, but I know that he's hiding something. When he heard of that mission, he became pale and started shaking in fury. Mother actually had to restrain him before he hit Master Coren. He said that if they ever put me in a situation like that again, he would take me back from the Jedi. I have never seen him so angry, to this day. I should have advised Karawn not to say what part of town she was in."

"The girl needs to pay for her own mistakes. You cannot shield her forever," Scourge advised.

"You are right, of course. But she is my sister, and you have never met my father. He is quite intimidating," Daesha informed.

"At least I finally understand why I never seemed to faze you," he growled.

"Oh, you disturb me in many other ways," she said. "But I learned to hold my own early. It took me several years, but by the time Master Coren found me, I had Nabat and Karawn doing everything I said." Scourge let out an appreciative chuckle, thinking back to his vision.

"Powerful even as a child," he said. "The galaxy would be yours, if only you would reach out and take it." She held up a hand.

"As I told Sajar, I seek no power. I will always be a servant of others, never their master," she insisted. Scourge frowned at the name, possessiveness rooting in his chest. She crossed her arms again, tilting to her other hip. "Do you honestly feel threatened by Sajar? I have never looked at him as anything besides a fellow Jedi."

"You were certainly looking at that Cathar," Scourge retorted. "I have not forgotten that."

"It was just a kiss! Not even a very good one, at that," she gawked. "By the hells, nothing else happened! You saw to that personally."

"He had no right to touch you," he seethed.

"And you think you do?" Daesha asked, eyebrows shooting up. "I am not yours to own."

"That is a contest yet to be determined," Scourge muttered.

"Possession is forbidden, in the world I exist in," she argued.

"I am no Jedi," he promised. "You will see that when I return."

"A pity, that. If you were a Jedi, you would still be here with us," she sighed. "And I would not have found this," she said, calling his Cross of Glory over with the Force.

"You were in my quarters? You must be desperate if you are willing to stoop to such actions." Daesha glared at him but didn't reply. "I will hurry my return," he said. She shook her head before tucking his medal into her pocket.

"Take your time, my friend. Revan was unconventional at best, and his knowledge of the Force was unmatched. If you can convince him to trust you, he will have much to teach. It may be quite some time," she acknowledged. "But I have learned to be patient."

"As have I," Scourge said. "The anticipation only makes the reward that much more tempting."

"Indeed," Daesha smiled. "I wish you the best of luck in your mission, Scourge. I feel more rides on this than what we suspect. May the Force guide you."

"And you, Ven. Embrace your passion," he said.

"More likely I'll die of a heat stroke first, but we will see. Good night," she joked before powering off her device. Scourge placed his comlink beside the bed and turned on his back. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep but could find no rest. The conversation had woken him. His mind was racing across the galaxy in two directions, one part towards Dantooine and one part towards Tattooine. His limbs itched for action. Scourge shook his head and tried to tamp the feeling down through sheer force of will. He lay rigidly still and concentrated, but his mind would not cooperate. Finally, Scourge rose and began pacing the floor. He would have started doing katas, had the room not been so small. The hotel had no courtyard, and he had no desire to be arrested for disturbing the peace.

The night air was a mild temperature, neither too hot nor cold. It was spring on Ord Mantell. Yet Scourge continued to pace, disturbed by something he could not identify. He grew warm, heat spreading through his limbs as he walked. His heart began to pound, and his breathing came quicker. His body suddenly seemed too small to contain him. He opened the room's only window, seeking some refuge from the feeling. That only made it worse. The air carried the faintest scent of jasmine, and Scourge suddenly realized who he was seeking. He slammed his fist down onto the windowsill. He would pack, find the fastest ship to Tattooine, track her…and prove that he had no more self control than those kriffing Zabraks. Scourge dragged a hand down his face, trying to ignore the sharp stabs of arousal that were starting in his abdomen. He had been so irritated the previous night that he had been able to ignore what the pair were doing. Now, it was all he could think of. Scourge shook his head, trying to concentrate on anything besides what he had witnessed. The memory of the Zabraks' groans and sighs echoed through his head, though; and he grew hard. Energy seemed to flow through his blood, yet he felt as if he were drunk.

Scourge collapsed onto the bed. Although he was frustrated, his curiosity won out in the end. He grasped his erection, flinching slightly at the contact. The sensation felt alien, it had been so long. Scourge pumped himself experimentally a few times, heart rate quickening at the contact. He remembered his first experiences doing this back at the Sith academy, when he had been about thirteen. He quickly pushed the memories aside. He had no desire to think of that time. Not at this moment, at least. The Force had given him a gift, and he intended to take it. This was where his life began again. Scourge drowned himself in the memory of what he had witnessed the night before. Sharp spikes of heat flooded him as he thought of the woman's breathy, pleasured sighs as her mate had stifled his groans against her shoulder. Thinking of their joining made Scourge's head spin, and it fell back onto the bed as his hand moved faster. He began to tremble lightly, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his body. He tried remembering his last sexual encounter, with a Twi'lek slave of Nyriss' about three weeks before he had met the Exile. She had been pretty enough, he supposed, and genuinely attracted to him, which was why he had chosen her. Her voracity in the bedroom had fueled his own passion, and her smile upon leaving had told him all he needed to know about his performance. Not that it had mattered to him at the time. He vaguely remembered staring down at her, but the memory quickly evaporated.

Instead, Daesha flashed into his mind. He imagined her squirming underneath him as he buried himself inside her. Her long hair was wrapped around his forearm, and one hand was cupping the back of her head. His other hand was supporting her bottom, drawing her as close as possible while he moved inside her. Her legs had wrapped around his midsection and her arms were clinging to his neck. She had turned her head away from him, eyes closed in embarrassment. He might have been angry at that, had she not felt so damn incredible. He had buried his face against her neck, huffing as he moved. Her breathing was rapid and needy, even if she was trying to be quiet. That seemed more like something she would do. He turned her face to his, staring down at her. Her eyes fluttered behind her lids and he kissed her, trying to force some reaction to gauge how she felt. Her eyes opened after a few seconds, the pupils dilated until they almost looked black. There was confusion in her gaze, as if she didn't understand how she was doing this. She tried to pull back to speak, but Scourge held her head in place and ravaged her mouth. His other hand trailed to where they were joined, and he slowed his speed so he could torment her. Her arms tightened painfully around his neck, her nails digging into the sides of his head. She gazed up at him as he played with her, expression pleading. Scourge nipped her lower lip insistently. She whimpered as he stroked her, finally shattering from the manipulation and crying out. The sound sent him over the edge. Scourge groaned as he came, arching off the bed as his vision flashed white.

He lay still for some time after that, relishing the lazy heat that had spread through his abdomen. His mouth formed a half-crazed grin, something akin to hope filling his chest. Little else could compare to the pinnacle of ecstasy he had just experienced. The only thing that might have enhanced it was if a certain Jedi had been underneath him, experiencing it as well. He needed to find Revan. And after that, he would return to Daesha. She was always preaching about the peace the light side brought her. He would destroy that peace and expose her passion. He would teach her how to harness and direct it. He would show her what ecstasy meant, how it was part of the Force just as much as the serenity she sought. Perhaps, by doing that - by gorging on her passion, he might even find a semblance of peace, if only for a few seconds.


	13. Chapter 13

A cold wind screamed its way along the dead plains of Dantooine. During the harvest season, the surrounding plains were golden with at least three different types of grains. In the summer, the sky was an azure blue that no other planet could boast, and the scent of wildflowers permeated the air. For the moment, though, the land rested. The normally fertile soil was dusty, and the savannah grasses that remained were dry and withered. The wind wrapped itself around Scourge's imposing form, and he shivered in delight. Any sensation, however unpleasant, was better than the numbness he had previously endured. Four days had passed since his departure from Ord Mantell, and he had finally arrived at the location Teeubo had given him for her contact.

Jor Passick's residence was not large, merely a small farmhouse with three rooms at most. The timber-frame house was sturdy, obviously built to keep out the elements rather than to impress any visitors. Scourge dismounted his speeder, double-checking the coordinates that the little Twi'lek had given him. He strode up to the fence, placing a hand on the gate when the door to the house opened. A green Twi'lek male stepped out, a sleek black blaster in one hand. The barrel was pointed at Scourge's head, and he stopped.

"One more step, and you'll be food for the grauls," the Twi'lek warned. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" Scourge pulled down his cowl and took a step back. He frowned; the man radiated anxiety. Had Teeubo not informed him of Scourge's arrival?

"I am an acquaintance of your cousin, Teeubo Ven," Scourge answered. "I am looking for an ally of mine. I was led to believe he was on Dantooine. She thought that perhaps you could help me find him."

The man's posture slackened only slightly. His blaster lowered, though. He raised an eye ridge. "Teeubo sent you?" he asked in disbelief. "My baby cousin is now setting up meetings for strangers?"

Scourge shrugged. "Whether or not she is does not concern me. I'm only here to complete a mission." The blaster raised again.

"Explain yourself," he hissed.

"I seek a Jedi," Scourge answered. "I thought perhaps you could help me find him."

"I only know one Jedi, and I haven't seen Daesha since she was still an apprentice. And just by the look of you, I know that you're no Jedi," the Twi'lek said.

"I am no Jedi, Twi'lek. Rather, something much more volatile," Scourge warned. "I do not appreciate being threatened. Lower your weapon." His hand gripped the pommel of his lightsaber. The man's eyes narrowed and he stepped further out onto the porch. Scourge tensed, gathering the Force around himself to attack, should the need arise. A small flash of blue appeared behind the man's left leg, and he stopped. Scourge crossed his arms as a small Twi'lek girl wrapped one arm around the man's calf. She regarded Scourge suspiciously, sucking her thumb while clinging to a stuffed tauntaun. The man groaned before trying to push the little one back into the house with his leg. She clung tighter to him. He glared at Scourge, although his anxiety in the Force increased. Scourge took another step back. The Twi'lek holstered his blaster and picked the girl up, scolding her in Ryl. She only looked up at him, her brown eyes wide. Scourge reached out into the Force and raised an eye ridge. The child was touched by the Force. She wasn't especially strong in it, but given that she looked younger than three standard years, that was to be expected. The Twi'lek was distracted, and Scourge decided to press his opportunity. He opened the gate and walked into the yard. The man whipped the blaster out and pointed it at him, but Scourge strode up to him heedlessly. He doubted the Twi'lek would murder someone in front of his daughter, unless absolutely necessary. "As I was saying, I seek a Jedi," Scourge repeated.

"Don't think I won't do what is necessary to protect my family," the Twi'lek hissed.

"I have not come to fight. I merely require your assistance. I can offer enough credits to make it worth your time and efforts," Scourge said.

"Credits aren't worth anything if you slaughter us. Everyone knows what your kind are capable of," he argued. Scourge pinched the bridge of his nose.

"A single Twi'lek with a blaster and a _child_ are hardly any threat to me. My bloodlust demands something that can actually fight back." The Twi'lek's grip tightened, and Scourge could feel the tension inside him increase. Normally, he might have enjoyed the sensations, the fear and aggression radiating out from him. But he needed his help, at the moment. "I grow tired of this. Comm your cousin, and she can confirm my identity," Scourge commanded. The Twi'lek backed into his house, latching the door behind him. Scourge waited patiently, watching absently as two large briths flew past. They reminded him vaguely of some of the aquatic creatures the Imperial aristocracy had imported from Glee Anselm. Almost twenty minutes passed before he turned back to the house. When he did, he noticed the little girl watching him from the window. Her father stepped from the house at that moment, an apologetic smile on his face. He dipped his head slightly, folding his hands in a gesture Daesha used all too often.

"My apologies, stranger. I was wrong to treat you with such hostility," he said. "My name is Jor Passick. The girl you saw is my daughter, Kaela. We welcome you to our home." The Twi'lek extended a hand. Scourge took the man's hand, shaking it awkwardly. "What may we call you?"

"Scourge," he replied. The corners of Jor's mouth turned up, and Scourge could hear the restrained laughter in his voice.

"Is that your real name?" he asked.

"It serves its purpose," Scourge shrugged. The Twi'lek shook his head and motioned at the speeder.

"You can stow that by the barn around back. Bring whatever supplies you have and make yourself at home. But you have to stow your weapons with your speeder. I don't want my daughter seeing them," Jor instructed. Scourge frowned fiercely.

"I never go anywhere without my weapons," he growled. Jor folded his arms across his chest.

"Teeubo may be fascinated by you, but that doesn't mean that I trust you. Winters here are harsh, and I cannot honorably leave you to the elements. You would freeze to death your first night here. But I will not allow a stranger into my home with such deadly things. Especially a laser sword. Those things are a menace," he insisted.

"How do I know you will not shoot me in my sleep?" Scourge asked sarcastically.

"We aren't a threat, remember?" Jor smirked. "You have nothing to fear from us. Besides, I thought Sith were supposed to be brave." Scourge snarled and stalked back to the speeder. He stowed it by the barn and collected the satchel with his possessions. When he reached the door of the farmhouse, he hesitated. The home reeked with the light side of the Force. Scourge could feel the warm waves of affection seeping out of the door. It was such an alien sensation, being around beings who weren't at war. Daesha and her crew seemed to get along well, and Scourge did not doubt their mutual respect and camaraderie. Yet always underneath their teasing or playful bickering, there was an awareness, an unspoken tension that permeated every facet of their lives. Scourge had been around it so long that it felt normal. Here, it was simply absent. The door swung open, and Jor motioned him in. "Are you just going to stand there and freeze to death?" Scourge entered the house and placed his satchel on the dining table. He lined his weapons up before handing them to Jor.

"I will not leave them outside," he said. "Place them somewhere safe." Jor rolled his eyes but took the shivs and lightsaber.

"I have a place high enough that Kaela can't reach," he said, disappearing into the other room. Scourge studied the interior of the house in the man's absence. The room he stood in served as the dining room and living space, with a large fireplace at one end. The fire crackled and popped, its heat warming one side of Scourge's face. He grunted in pleasure and moved closer to it. The door to one of the side rooms was cracked, and Scourge noticed toys littering the floor. He sincerely hoped that was the child's room. The room off from the dining table hosted a number of pots and pans, and he could smell type of meat cooking. Scourge felt his mouth water at the scent. How long had it been since he'd had fresh-cooked meat? The Jedi had only served him breakfast the morning after the ritual, and although he'd almost wiped out a third of the _Shield_'s food reserves, it had all been cold. He'd been basically living on field rations since Tython, and he hadn't eaten since landing on Dantooine. His stomach growled, and Scourge turned at a soft giggle. The Twi'lek child was staring up at him, still holding her toy tauntaun. She babbled something in Ryl, and he shook his head in confusion. She wrinkled her nose and pointed at the kitchen. Scourge glanced over at it before shrugging. The child cocked her head and frowned. She toddled over to him and pulled roughly on the edge of one boot. He stretched both hands out in a universal gesture of confusion, and she grasped his pinky before waddling over towards the dining room table. Scourge bent down awkwardly, trying not to trip. Luckily, Jor chose that moment to return to the room. He took in the situation and shook his head before collecting his daughter. He spoke in Ryl, wagging a finger in the child's face. She grinned before trying to bite it.

"Excuse us," Jor chuckled, taking the child into her room. He spoke to her for a few seconds before closing the door behind him, leaving them alone. "Kaela can be very fearless, unfortunately. I hope she will not bother you too much."

"I doubt anyone could bother me more than your cousin did," Scourge said.

"Teeubo is an acquired taste, but she means well. You should take her attention as a compliment. Few people are interesting enough to keep her occupied for an entire two days," Jor said.

"How lucky I am," Scourge grumbled.

"Indeed," Jor smirked. The stood in awkward silence for about a minute before Jor motioned to the table. He sat, and Scourge did the same. "You'll pardon me if I'm not the best host. I don't get many visitors, and I prefer it that way. But dinner should be ready in twenty minutes, and I don't want to confuse my daughter by having this conversation when she's present. Teeubo didn't tell me much, just that you were looking for a friend of yours. You mentioned a Jedi?"

Scourge nodded. "My information on his whereabouts is scarce, but this is the best lead that I've had."

"Why are you looking for him?" Jor asked.

"It is a personal matter," Scourge answered.

Jor held up his hands defensively. "Fine, fine. Far be it from me to pry. But I worry that you're going on a wild bantha chase. There are no Jedi in this region, probably not on all of Dantooine. There haven't been, in almost three hundred years. The old Enclave is all that remains of their time here."

"Enclave?" Scourge repeated. "They have a temple here?"

"They had one here, centuries ago. After their conflicts with the Sith, they relocated to Coruscant. After that Temple was destroyed, I heard they went to Tython. There's nothing at the old Enclave but a bunch of fallen rocks and ruins. Scavengers took anything valuable long ago, but you don't strike me as a treasure hunter. Good thing, too. You wouldn't survive an encounter there," Jor said.

"Oh?" Scourge snorted.

"Well, no one that's gone artifact hunting there lately has returned. Some claim that the place is magic, that going there leads to a person's salvation. They claim that the scavengers change their ways immediately on setting foot inside the ruins. I very highly doubt that. Other people claim it's haunted. Say that the ghosts get whoever ventures too close. Not sure if I believe in ghosts, but there is something dangerous there now," Jor continued.

"Explain," Scourge said.

"Well, some of the local teens like to play pranks on each other. They'll go out to the ruins on a dark night, try to see who's braver, just be stupid kids. A couple of months ago, a group of boys went out there. They got about ten feet from the ruins before something sent them running back home, screaming like nunas. One of the boys told his father that they'd seen the ghost. He claimed it was just a figure in a bunch of rags. They'd thought one of their friends was playing a prank, so they got closer. The boy claimed the thing lifted him off the ground by the neck and tried to choke him to death. He said it didn't even have to chase him, either, just stood still the whole time. It told them that if they ever came there again, they'd be buried there. None of the locals have gone there since. They figured it was better to leave whatever's there in peace," Jor shrugged.

"That certainly sounds promising," Scourge nodded. Jor raised an eye ridge before shaking his head.

"Look, whatever is out there, you don't want to get involved with it. If you go looking for your friend at this place, you won't come back. Whatever issues you two have aren't worth it," Jor warned.

"Leave that determination to me," Scourge argued.

* * *

Daesha and Kira crouched low outside the stucco warehouse that served as the Sand Demon's headquarters. The gang was ruthless, and their violence had only increased in the last few months. After the sandstorms had died, they had finally made it into Anchorhead to speak with Master Satele's contact, a Rodian agent named Dole. He had informed them of their target, a group of Republic POWs that had somehow ended up this far out and been bought up by a Weequay named Gruum, the new leader of the Sand Demons. Apparently one of the POWs had secret value, as he knew the location of several spooks in the Imperial sector of Mid Rim. Were he to be sold to the wrong buyer, that information could be used to kill dozens and damage countless SIS operations. Director Marcus Trant had personally contacted Master Satele, asking for her help.

Daesha's stomach flipped at the despair and hopelessness she felt inside the warehouse, but she remained silent. Any lost focus here, any deviation or loss of control, and the whole operation could be compromised. And although the darkest part of her wished that she could just lock all the Sand Demons inside this warehouse and light it on fire, she knew that the freedom of all these slaves rested on them. That had been the one condition that she had stipulated to Dole. If they were going to liberate these POWs, they liberated all the slaves too. If they were successful, it would be a double success. The Republic would get their soldiers back, and its reputation would be helped when reports of the freed slaves reached the Holonet. And Force knew, the Republic could use some good PR in the Outer Rim. Kira nudged her with an elbow, and Daesha nodded. She commed Rusk.

"Sergeant, are you and Doc ready?" she whispered.

"Ready and waiting for your signal, Master Jedi," Rusk answered. Doc's voice sounded from the comlink on her wrist.

"Let's hurry this up, can we? Some of us have better things to do than hang around dives like this," he complained. Daesha smiled grimly. His words may have been flippant, but she could hear the distaste in his voice. Doc had been with the Balmorran resistance long enough to see the horrors of war, but she doubted anything could truly prepare a being for facing the slave trade. She would be glad when this mission was over. _There is no emotion, there is peace_, she thought.

"Stand by," Daesha instructed before switching off the comlink. She and Kira stood to their full height before taking a few steps back.

"Up we go," Kira smiled before using the Force to scale the two-story building. Daesha followed a second behind her, using a somersault to absorb the impact of her landing. "Showoff," Kira grinned before crouching down. Daesha followed suit. They set the grappling equipment before she commed Rusk again.

"We're ready. Are you in position?" she whispered. A few moments later, Doc answered.

"Right underneath you. You look good, by the way," he chuckled.

"Focus, Doc. Stop looking up my skirt," Daesha said. "Waiting for your mark to send them down."

"No bogies sighted. You have your mark," Rusk informed. Once the grappling hooks had been sent down, it only took the two men a few seconds to reach the roof. They all formed a circle by the skylight.

"Everyone remember the plan?" Daesha asked. "Kira and I will locate the POWs. Rusk, you and Doc back us up and keep an eye out for the location of the holding pens. Doc, once they soldiers are free, take them to the safe zone. If there's time, come back. If not, make sure nothing happens to them. Kira and I will free the remaining slaves. Rusk, you'll provide cover fire while we do that." Rusk and Kira nodded.

"Try to keep yourself safe in there," Doc said, checking the carbines on his blaster again.

"May the Force be with us," Daesha nodded. Using a laser cutter, she removed a section of glass from the skylight. She and Kira jumped down, using the Force to muffle the impact and sounds of their landing. Rusk and Doc followed a few seconds later, making sure to leave the cable extended down. The area they were in appeared to be a large cargo bay, and two halls led off in either direction. Daesha reached out into the Force, following the sense of despair that reeked from the walls of this place. She pointed, and the group scurried along at a low crouch. The guards on duty were all playing sabacc, obviously secure enough to think nothing could breach their fortress. Slipping past them was easy. They made it about halfway down the hall before encountering another pair of guards, this time armed with heavy-duty assault rifles. Kira glanced at her, and her hand drifted to her lightsaber. Daesha shook her head and pantomimed knocking two people's heads together. Kira grinned. They reached out with the Force, using it to simultaneously lift the guards and throw them into the far wall. The force of it knocked them out, although the sound echoed lightly down the hall. The group continued their journey, slipping behind cargo crates when three more guards ran down the hall to check on what had happened to their fellow members. Daesha ignored the shouts, her focus solely on the holding pens that lay ahead. There were three pens, one with women, one with children, and another with five soldiers in ripped, blood-stained Republic uniforms.

Three guards patrolled the pens, pacing nervously and waiting for the others to return. Daesha signaled one to Rusk, one to Doc, and winked at Kira before drawing her lightsaber. They sneaked out from the crates. Doc and Rusk both downed their marks with a single shot between the eyes, and Daesha killed hers with a single slash across the chest. She repressed the surge of vindication at his strangled cry. Revenge was not the Jedi way; she would not give in to hate. They passed the two pens holding the women and children, and Daesha took it in silent horror. The children sported visible bruising and lacerations. A few even showed burn marks. Almost every woman had ripped clothing and looked as if they'd been beaten. Two wept in a corner, curled around each other. Their leggings were almost ripped in two, and Daesha's heart began to pound at the hand-shaped bruises on their thighs. Fury filled her, and she closed her eyes. _There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace_. Kira's hand grasped her wrist, and Daesha let herself be pulled away. A few quick motions of their lightsabers, and the Republic POWs were free. Their leader, a human female, stepped forward. Her lips were cracked and bleeding, and she looked half-starved.

"We thank you, Jedi," she rasped. "Without your help…" Kira held up a hand.

"There's no time. Follow our associate, and he'll get you someplace safe," she instructed. The soldier nodded, and Doc motioned with his head.

"Let's get you out of here," he said before they all hurried away. Kira nodded at Daesha, and they each took a pen. The children stood there, and Kira motioned them forward. They came hesitantly, shrinking away from Rusk when they saw his heavy-duty cannon.

"We've been sent to rescue you, and we won't hurt you. Now is the time for bravery. Go with this man; he'll protect you," Kira smiled. Daesha paused in her efforts of helping the women over the cut bars of their pen.

"Rusk, if you meet any resistance, you know what to do," Daesha said. Rusk nodded and motioned to the children. He placed a finger over his lips, and they followed him as silently as they could, using the same path Doc had taken. Kira and Daesha turned at the sound of footsteps running down the hall. The last woman climbed over the bars just as the guards reached them. The women's cries of distress made Daesha's heart skip a beat. "Stay behind us," she instructed. As a group, they slunk back. The five remaining guards pointed their blasters at them. One of the Weequays snarled a curse.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Surrender," Kira insisted, taking a defensive stance.

"I'd rather burn up in the desert than surrender to a Jedi," he snarled.

"That can be arranged," Kira hissed. Daesha mimicked her stance, heart pounding from adrenaline.

"This is your last chance. Surrender or die," Daesha said coldly.

"Jedi whore!" he hollered.

"As you wish it," Daesha nodded. She and Kira advanced as one, deflecting the red blaster bolts. Daesha tried to ignore the screams of pain she heard when a few of the bolts found marks in the slaves' flesh. A minute later, and the guards were all felled.

"Good riddance," Kira grumbled. Daesha nodded in agreement. They made their way back to the slaves. Thankfully, none of the blaster wounds were lethal. "We need to go before any more guards arrive. Hurry," Kira instructed. The group made their way through the compound quickly, although the two Jedi did have to dispatch another group of guards on the way there. They followed Rusk's signal, using the exit he had found since many of the children were too weak to scale a grappling cable. Another six dead guards littered the grounds outside the warehouse, and Daesha and Kira hurried their group before more arrived. Once they about two miles from the location, they stopped to let the slaves rest. Daesha took up a watch at one end of the group, preferring not to have to witness the signs of physical abuse. Sometimes it was just easier to pretend that things weren't real. She turned when a finger tapped on her arm. A young Rutian Twi'lek smiled at her. The girl's blue eyes were tired, and she had a hand-shaped bruise around her neck. Several cuts and burn marks littered her neck and collarbone. Daesha's heart contracted. This could easily have been Teeubo, had fate not been kind.

"Jedi?" the girl asked in Ryl, pointing at Daesha's lightsaber. Her accent was Rylothian, and Daesha smiled despite herself. To hear her speak reminded Daesha of her cousin Jor.

"Yes," Daesha nodded, extending a hand. The girl shook it eagerly. She glanced back in the direction of the warehouse and shivered.

"Nightmare," she whispered. Daesha nodded in understanding. How else could the place be described accurately?

"Yes," Daesha replied. "_Daesh'aven_," she said, placing a hand over her chest. The girl mimicked her gesture.

"_Lyn'toqema_," she smiled. "_Ryma gesu'tak allesh_."

"_Ma'allesh_," Daesha said, motioning back to Kira that they needed to start moving.

"Friends?" the girl smiled shyly.

"Friends," Daesha smiled. They began moving again, making it to the outskirts of town without any incidents. They found refuge at the safehouse Dole had told them about, although it was a tight squeeze with almost twenty-five people in a single house. After making sure that everyone was accounted for, Daesha contacted Dole. The Rodian assured her that he had made contact with a humanitarian group out of Mos Ila, and they should be arriving in the morning. Director Trant would brief her on the situation at o'nine hundred, and he was sending another agent to make sure the Republic POWs made it back to Coruscant safely for debriefing. Daesha thanked him before powering down her wrist-com. Dole had left enough blankets, rations, and water for the night at least, and several of the women and children were already curled up and sleeping fitfully. Kira picked her way over.

"Doc has already done what he can for their blaster wounds. Rusk is gonna catch some sleep, but he told me to wake him if anything happens. I'll take first watch, if you want," she said.

"No. Get some sleep, and let me take first watch. I need to make sure that none of those thugs find us," Daesha argued. "Agent Dole told me that the humanitarian volunteers should be here tomorrow morning. Director Trant is sending one of his agents for the soldiers, also."

"Good. The sooner we get off this dustball, the better," Kira sighed.


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: And here is the chapter I've been building up for waaay too long. I have never played KotoR, so what little I know of Revan is from SWTOR and Drew Karphyshyn's novel. I hope I've done him justice, because he was absolutely a thrill to write. :)_

* * *

Scourge stopped about thirty yards from the ruins of the Jedi temple. The Enclave was about the size of the Jedi Temple on Tython, although it was in far worse condition. Although still standing, many of the walls were broken, the stones cast down. The grounds were overrun with dead weeds, and they brushed together eerily in the freezing wind that scoured the plains. Scourge reached out into the Force. The place had the drag of long-lost memories, although Scourge could not tell if they came from the structure itself or if he was picking up the emotions of whatever being resided here now. He could tell one thing, however. The light side echoed from the ruins, drawing and repelling him simultaneously. It felt much the same as Tython, the energies seeking to redeem his darkness yet not wanting him to draw near. Yet it was so faint. This place had been abandoned many times, forgotten in favor of the war.

Scourge ventured closer, stopping about twenty feet from the ruins. The light side was strong here, but he could understand why the locals refused to come near it. Tension permeated the air, the promise of action strong. Something was watching him. Scourge knelt in place, resting his lightsaber across his knees and reaching out into the Force. As the moments passed, goosebumps began to appear on his arms. The Force around him seemed to swirl and vibrate with curiosity, and Scourge wondered if there really were ghosts here. Certainly, his dream of Meetra had been more than a coincidence. However, he could almost feel the eyes watching him. It was unnerving. The Force trembled, and he almost expected to begin hearing voices. Instead, he felt a surge of power approach from the south. He didn't need to ask who it was. Scourge had only felt such contained strength in the presence of one Jedi. The presence stopped about five feet behind him, and a lightsaber snapped and hummed to life. "Revan," Scourge whispered, basking in the power that exuded from the Jedi. It was like being by a fire.

"Leave this place, if you want to live. I can sense your darkness. You will not defile this temple," Revan warned. Scourge smiled at his tone, the commanding gruffness that demanded respect. After all the time that had passed, some things did not change.

"I do not seek the defilement of your ruins," Scourge promised, rising and turning to face him. "My goals are not so petty." Revan straightened slightly. His grip on the lightsaber tightened.

"That voice…who are you?" he demanded. Scourge pulled down his cowl.

"I am surprised you have forgotten me," Scourge responded, activating his lightsaber at the flare of anger from the man in front of him.

"It is you," Revan hissed. He stepped back a pace, twirling the lightsaber expertly around his lead hand. The Force pulsed and trembled at his rage, and Scourge drank it in. Revan's fury was like the finest wine on Drommund Kaas, sharp at its ingestion and searing in its consumption. When he finally spoke again, his voice was shaking in fury. "What are you doing here?"

Scourge gazed steadily at him, unable to see underneath the hood of his cloak. For a moment, he understood why Revan had always been so effective. He was a mystery, as unpredictable and powerful as the Force itself. And this time, he was not drugged and barely coherent. Scourge inclined his head, keeping his lightsaber in a defensive position. "I am here to finish what I meant to do all those years ago," he replied.

Revan laughed hollowly, and his bitterness flowed through the Force around them. "If you're here to kill me, you'll find it's unnecessary. You already managed that long ago." Scourge flinched at the deep regret that enveloped the air around them. It was such a gut-wrenching feeling, like a hand squeezing his stomach, that he was glad he'd never entertained such emotions.

"I am not here to kill you," Scourge said. "I am here to learn from you."

Revan watched him for several moments, unmoving. His disbelief was palpable. His lightsaber hummed as he leveled it with Scourge's chest. "Don't waste my time with lies," he scoffed.

Scourge held up one hand. "I am not lying," he promised. "I seek knowledge that only you possess, and I will not leave without it."

"You will not leave, either way," Revan growled.

"I thought the Jedi all embraced peace," Scourge mocked. "It is a relief to know that I was wrong."

"Most do. But for you, I will make an exception," Revan laughed coldly. "I heard tales of you in my prison, but I can sense the change in you. Your power is…different. You're no longer immortal."

"Neither are you, without the Emperor's influence," Scourge said. "I can feel your exhaustion."

"You saw to that," Revan accused. His stance changed to an offensive, and Scourge tensed. There would be no escaping this, then. He relished the opportunity. He and Revan had never truly dueled, and his skills were legendary.

"I did what was necessary," Scourge argued.

"You killed Meetra," Revan hissed. "For that alone, you should suffer."

"An unfortunate sacrifice. But a necessary one, for the ultimate victory over the Emperor," Scourge said.

"I will see that you pay for that sacrifice," Revan promised.

"Indeed you will," Scourge replied, raising his lightsaber. Revan advanced without hesitation, a harsh cry ripping from his throat. Scourge blocked the slash, finally seeing Revan's face from the low light of their sabers. His brown eyes were intense, filled with grief and rage. He still bore the imprint of his mask, and his face was pale and drawn. His teeth were gritted, and Scourge could feel the hatred rolling off him. Their sabers sputtered, humming as Revan pushed away from him. He began to circle, calculating the best manuevers to end the battle quickly. Scourge mimicked his actions, keeping his saber raised and ready. He remembered a saying from his childhood_: never challenge someone who has nothing to lose_. He had been taught from childhood to find someone's weakness and exploit it, to distract them long enough to end the duel one way or another. He sensed no such weakness in Revan, and he understood why. Everything he had loved was long dead. The only thing left for him, the only thing Scourge could feel radiating off of him, was the desire for revenge.

Revan suddenly charged him, aiming a slash at Scourge's calves. He spun out of the way, bringing his lightsaber up as Revan attempted an overhand slash designed to leave him without a head. Another two thrusts and several parries later, and Revan switched tactics. He used a series of vicious, rapid chops aimed at Scourge's midsection, and Scourge barely managed to avoid being chopped in two. He used the Force to augment his speed, barely escaping a lightsaber through the heart. Scourge raised his saber, unused to merely defending himself. It was frustrating, to say the least. Normally, he would have dispatched his enemy by this time, but Revan was of no use to him dead. The Jedi used the Force to leap over him and almost put a saber through his back. Scourge spun away, cursing his own inattention. He went on the offensive, aiming several thrusts at Revan's knees and coming up short every time. Revan returned the favor, and Scourge struggled to parry him before his legs were literally cut out from under him. On instinct, he used the Force to shove the Jedi away several feet. The move caught Revan off guard, although he managed to stay on his feet. He raised his saber again, and Scourge could sense the dark amusement in him. "So that's how you want to play it?" he grinned.

A sudden blast of energy knocked into Scourge, throwing him fifteen feet away from the Jedi. He barely had time to raise his lightsaber before Revan was on him, trying to bisect him. Scourge tried to use the Force to knock him off, but Revan repelled it. Scourge wheezed as the pressure buried him into the soil. He let go of the Force, scowling at Revan's smug smirk. A quick kick and use of Force-augmented speed got him out from under the Jedi, but he barely had time to breathe before Revan was on him again, thrusting and parrying with the speed that only combat experience could bring. Scourge lost track of time during their duel, but by the time he finally fell trembling at Revan's feet, the moon was almost setting in the sky. Revan's purple saber hummed under his chin, and Scourge wondered vaguely if this was where he would die. He did not fear death as many Sith did, yet this was certainly not the way or the company he would have preferred. If he could have chosen, he would have been with Daesha, either fighting beside her or mocking her ridiculous adherence to the Jedi. It didn't matter which, so long as he was in the company of the woman that he suddenly realized was the only friend he had in the galaxy. Fate could be cruel. But, he supposed, even a dead man could have one last dream. He closed his eyes and pictured her, waiting for the deathblow. It never came. Scourge opened his eyes and dared to glance up at Revan. The Jedi was gazing down at him in shock.

"Why…do you…hesitate?" Scourge panted.

"Your thoughts betray you. For a Sith to feel affection…it's something I've never witnessed. Something I wouldn't have thought possible," Revan admitted. Scourge remained silent, knowing that his life hung in the balance of this man's ruminations. Revan closed his eyes, pushing at his mind. Scourge reluctantly lowered some of his shields. His captor stood still, yet Scourge could feel the different emotions flow through the Force around them. He could feel the surprise, disgust, and regret that flowed through the Jedi before him. Revan finally opened his eyes. They showed a flinty steel, the longing for revenge. But they also held some compassion. Scourge could feel the conflict inside the Jedi. When he finally spoke, his voice was monotone. "Do you regret what you have done?"

It would be easy to lie. It would certainly be wiser. "No," Scourge admitted. He felt the power surge before the electricity burned through his body. Scourge fell onto the ground, convulsing as lightning leapt from Revan's fingertips and into him. His voice echoed through Scourge's mind. _Then that is where we will begin_, he promised.

* * *

The former slaves all marched down the narrow streets of Anchorhead, following the employees of the humanitarian group that Dole had contacted. Many of the women had reclaimed their children, and the children that had no mother to speak of all clung to the hand of an assigned guide. Their wounds had been tended with stims and kolto, in some of the worse cases. They had all been given a hot meal, fresh clothing, and enough water to make it to the transports waiting about three miles from the outskirts of town. The women's injuries had also been tended, although there were many emotional wounds that would take much longer to heal. They sported the white refugee tunics that the group had provided, and many had wrapped headscarves around their heads to block out the heat. It was almost blinding as they journeyed down the road towards their new lives. Daesha watched from the doorway of the safehouse. Lyn Toqema turned and waved one last time before sprinting away after the others. Daesha kept looking until they were out of sight. She allowed herself to bask in this victory, to feel that there was hope for the galaxy again. This was what the Jedi should be doing, helping the downtrodden and forgotten. Not battling it out on world after world, gaining only fractional victory against a corrupt and diseased Empire. She understood the vital importance of continuing the war, but what was the cost to the rest of the galaxy? Would it ever end? Kira approached, her aura as bright as the twin suns. She grinned and pointed over at the captain of the Republic POWs.

"You should hear her imitation of a Hutt," Kira smiled. "It's almost as good as Doc's."

"I'm glad that she's feeling good enough to joke," Daesha smiled in return. "It means that she'll recover quickly." Kira sobered and nodded.

"They're eager to return to Republic space. The gangsters didn't take anyone's rank or gender into consideration. Everyone got tortured equally," Kira spat. "I guess there's no honor among criminals."

"There rarely is," Daesha sighed. "What happened here was…beyond wrong. But it's over now. By this afternoon, they'll be well away from here, as will we."

"Thank the Force. I'll be glad to put this behind us," Kira said. Rusk trotted over, his stolid presence a comfort.

"Master Jedi, you have a comm from Director Trant. He's requesting to speak with you in private," Rusk informed her. Daesha nodded and took the comm unit he provided. She pulled down her hood before exiting into the baking heat. A few moments later, Director Marcus Trant's likeness appeared over the holoprojector. He was tall, with dark skin and an air of reassured authority. "Director Trant, it is a pleasure," Daesha greeted. "What can I do for you?" The SIS director glanced over her figure before one corner of his mouth lifted.

"Meet me for a Nebula Drifter the next time you're on Coruscant, and that should be enough. Unless you decide it's not," he flirted. Daesha suppressed a smile. Scourge would not have appreciated that comment. She lifted an eyebrow.

"A generous offer, Director. But I'm afraid I'm otherwise engaged with the war," Daesha eluded.

"I could always ask Master Satele to reassign you," he grinned.

"I somehow doubt she would grant that request," Daesha chuckled. "Perhaps another time, though."

"Count on it. But in all honesty, I wanted to thank you for what you did. You might have saved the lives of dozens of my agents. You certainly saved countless operations. I asked Master Satele for her best Jedi, and she didn't disappoint. As usual," he quickly added.

"I thank you for the praise, Director, but it's not necessary. My duty as a Jedi is to serve the Republic. That is reward enough," Daesha smiled. The director crossed his arms.

"You sound just like her," he finally chuckled. "Not hard to see why they made such a young woman a Master. You'll do them proud."

"I hope so," Daesha agreed. "Is there anything else I need to know? When should your agent be here?" Director Trant nodded.

"His transport should have landed in Anchorhead an hour ago, so keep an eye out. I made Master Satele a deal. She sent her best Jedi. So I sent my best agent. Greet him warmly. The kid is good, very good. He has the skills to make sure this is handled quickly and quietly. Just don't tell him I said that," he admitted. Daesha frowned.

"Why shouldn't he know?" she asked. "If he's as good as you say, he deserves to have his skills recognized."

"You don't know him like I do," the director sighed. "He can get…antsy. A little praise might make him think he doesn't have to listen anymore. I don't need a Senate investigation into why one of my agents got himself killed by being cocky."

"Give me a little credit, Director," a voice sounded from the alley beside the building. Daesha turned, her hand drifting to her lightsaber. A young man stepped out, arms crossed and a smirk on his face. He was about seven inches taller than Daesha, with spiky brown hair and blue eyes. His skin had a pleasantly light tan, and he had cybernetic implants around his left eye. His gaze flicked up to Daesha's, his azure eyes amused. "I made it this far without getting myself killed." The director gritted his teeth.

"You'll be lucky if credit is all I give you, when you get back here," he snapped. "You're gonna be doing reconnaissance for the next year if you don't curb the attitude."

"And here I thought you didn't care," the agent grinned. Director Trant opened his mouth to say something, but Daesha cut him off.

"Why don't we get those soldiers transferred? I'm sure they're very eager to return to their families," she smoothed. "Director, is there anything else I need to know?" He shook his head and glared at the agent.

"If this one gets thrown out an airlock, I won't complain," he griped.

"Murder is not the Jedi way. I'll have him update you as soon as the soldiers are away. I trust the two of you can be civil?" she chuckled. The agent snorted.

"We'll do our job," he said. "I can't promise civility."

"Neither can I, I'm afraid," the director said. "Good luck, Master Jedi. I'm counting on those Nebula Drifters. Director Trant out." Daesha put her holoprojector away.

"You shouldn't antagonize him," she chided. "It can't be a very smart career move."

"I know how the deal with the director," the agent shrugged. "Now, let's get down to business." Daesha paused as a feeling of déjà vu washed over her. He seemed so familiar, and her mind raced, trying to place him. "Master Jedi?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "The soldiers?" Daesha shook her head.

"Forgive me," she apologized. "It's been a long mission. My name is Daesha Ven. I've had too many people call me Jedi today."

"Master Daesha?" he joked. His tone was light, but Daesha could feel a small surge of bitterness in the Force. He had been wounded in the past then. She still didn't understand why the title seemed to offend him even as he suggested it, but perhaps it wasn't her concern. She extended a hand and smiled.

"Just Daesha," she corrected. He shook her hand and nodded.

"Theron," he smiled.

"Just Theron?" Daesha teased. "Not Super Secret Agent Theron?" He smirked.

"Just Theron. A man's got to have some secrets," he said.

"As do we all," Daesha nodded. She motioned him back to the safehouse. "You'll find the soldiers through here." As they entered the house, Rusk and Kira looked up from some discussion about blasters. Kira's stiffened and cocked her head. Daesha motioned almost imperceptibly at the agent, and Kira's eyebrow raised. No doubt, she was getting the same feeling of déjà vu. "This is Agent Theron with the SIS. He's here to escort you all home," Daesha smiled to the soldiers. Theron joined the soldiers and began giving them instructions. Rusk moved over to them, taking the chance to say his farewells. Kira scurried over to Daesha.

"Handsome," she said. Daesha snorted and nodded in agreement. The agent turned momentarily at the sound, and Kira waved. He nodded in acknowledgment before turning back to the soldiers. "He seems…familiar."

Daesha folded her arm, studying him thoroughly. "I know what you mean. It's unsettling," she agreed.

"Not that I'm complaining, mind you. He's certainly nice to look at," Kira grinned. Daesha shook her head. "Oh, come on! Even you have to admit that he's eye candy."

"You don't talk quietly," Daesha chuckled. "And he's a spy; they have good hearing."

"All the better," Kira winked. "The things I could do with a man like that…" Theron straightened up at the comment, his head turning towards them just slightly. Kira giggled softly. "Look at that ass!" Daesha's mouth dropped open.

"Kira!" she hissed under her breath. "Show a little decorum."

"Don't spoil my fun. Just because you never get laid doesn't mean I'm not entitled to a diversion every now and then," Kira snorted.

"That diversion is leaving, hopefully soon," Daesha informed her. "And thank you for several visuals I didn't need or want." Kira shrugged.

"Doesn't mean a girl can't hope. Our paths will cross again, I know it," she said.

"Did the Force tell you that, or something else?" Daesha mocked.

"That 'something else' is part of the Living Force, Master," Kira teased. "Who am I to resist its bidding?" Daesha put a hand to her head and sighed.

"By the stars, my Padawan,if I've told you once, I-" she began. A throat cleared and Daesha looked up. Theron stood in front of her, trying not to smile.

"Thank you for the help, Daesha. I hope our paths will cross again," he said with a surreptitious glance at Kira. Kira raked her gaze over his form.

"See that they do," she purred. Daesha shook her head.

"May the Force be with you, Theron. Travel safely," she smiled. He nodded before leading the soldiers away. Kira watched them from the doorway, finally coming back to stand by Daesha as she watched Doc and Rusk collect the last of their equipment.

"Not a bad day, after all," Kira said, poking Daesha in the ribs with an elbow. "But let's get going." Rusk and Doc moved to join them, and Daesha nodded. It was past time to leave Tattooine behind.

* * *

Scourge woke to the sound of water dripping. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light of his surroundings, he glanced around the room. It was dark but dry, and the air was clogged with dust. The surface that he laid on was hard stone, and he could hear the scurrying of several small rodents nearby. He reached out into the Force. Their insignificant life-essences were the only things he could feel, and Scourge leaned up. His body ached. It had been many years since anyone had dared to use Force lightning on him. The last time had been a particularly foolish acolyte who had somehow managed to gain the Emperor's attention. The teenager had been powerful and talented to learn such a technique so young. His eradication had almost proved a challenge. Scourge stood, surprised to find that he was not chained to anything. One would think that after being betrayed so many times, Revan would be more cautious. More likely, he just didn't consider Scourge enough of a threat to warrant such precautions. Scourge frowned. That thought was…mildly insulting. Scourge groped blindly along the wall, since there was no light to see by. His hand drifted to his belt, seeking his lightsaber. It was missing. Well, at least Revan considered him enough of a threat to warrant _that_.

He stumbled along blindly until he found a corridor leading out of the chamber. He followed it, eyes slowly adjusting to the light until he was standing in what had once been a library of some kind. Scourge glanced around the ruins, unimpressed. The decay in this section of the Enclave was not as extensive, but the place had obviously seen better days. Overturned, rickety furniture littered the space. Dust and cobwebs made a fine carpet along the floor, and it was easy to see what routes the rodents of the place traveled. He continued his explorations, using the Force to guide him. He finally found his way up to the ground level. Things were no better here. The grounds were overgrown with weeds, and whatever paths had once existed were choked with yet more weeds and fallen debris. Scourge cirled the Enclave twice, searching for Revan and trying to ignore the echoes of the light side. He knew little of the Enclave's history, but he did feel that many Jedi had lived here once. Many had also died here, unexpectedly. A breeze moaned through the ruins, and Scourge halted. He closed his eyes, opening himself to the Force again. A surge of contained power jolted through his mind, and Scourge followed it south.

He finally found Revan in what had once been a courtyard. The Jedi was kneeling in meditation, back turned to him. Scourge's lightsaber hung suspended in midair, the focus of the Jedi's concentration. Scourge stopped a few feet behind him, waiting. Revan's presence in the Force was calm, almost mournful. A slight anger hugged the edges of his aura, but it came and went sporadically. When Revan finally spoke, his voice was subdued. "Such violence this weapon has wrought. Your enemies, your allies…Meetra. Never has this weapon been used for the defense of others, but only for their destruction."

"I will not deny it," Scourge admitted. "To do so would be pointless." Revan's irritation flared at that, and Scourge felt power gather around him. With a simple tick of his fingers, the lightsaber came apart and fell to the ground. Scourge's hands balled into fists, but he remained silent. He could easily repair the weapon.

"Kneel," Revan commanded. Scourge hesitated, unused to taking orders. Even Daesha knew better than to try demanding anything from him. A flare of impatience shot out from Revan. "Now," he instructed, voice lethal. Scourge did as he said. Revan stood and approached him, leaving the lightsaber where it was. Little had changed about his appearance, save for graying hair along his temples. Time, in that respect, had stood still for him. Yet his presence carried even more weight than before, with the experience and wisdom of three added centuries behind it. Scourge's breath caught. Here was the champion of light and dark, the only Force-sensitive Scourge had ever known to master both. Scourge had always respected him, regardless of everything that had happened. During Nyriss' imprisonment of Revan, Scourge had slowly become obsessed with him. He remembered wanting the knowledge that Revan possessed more than anything besides the Emperor's defeat. Now, he finally had a chance to realize that goal. Revan glowered down at him. Well, perhaps he had a chance to realize it.

"You did not kill me," Scourge said. It was a question, not a statement.

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure," Revan hissed. "But, for all that I have done, I'm a Jedi. Or at least, I still strive to be. Even if the ways I go about it are…different from most other members of the Order."

"That is precisely why I came to you. You are the only Jedi I know who actually understands the power of the dark side as I do. Every other Jedi has tried selling me their version of the light and that alone. I cannot exist in such a manner," Scourge revealed.

"I am surprised that you did not seek out Daesha Ven's help," Revan admitted. "She is one of the Order's most promising Knights."

"She certainly would have been easier to find, considering that I was a member of her crew. I helped her escape the Emperor's fortress, helped her hone her fighting skills until she was ready to face him," Scourge said. Revan nodded. "Master Ven is exceptionally skilled. But her core is light; she resists passion and the dark side. She could not have helped me."

"What makes you think I will?" Revan asked. "Just because I decided to spare your life does not mean that I will teach you, of all beings."

"I want your knowledge. You want revenge against me. To learn from the light side will be a torture in itself. I have no doubt you will find ways to make it moreso," Scourge said. Lightning crackled in Revan's palm, and he fell silent.

"Indeed I could," Revan said. "But torture is your specialty, not mine. And just because I desire revenge does not mean that I will pursue it. That has always been the difference between the Jedi and the Sith. The Jedi seek to serve others. The Sith only serve themselves. The Jedi of my generation thought my actions were motivated by the longing for power. Many of my actions during the war with the Mandalorians were…controversial. Legions died at my command. Legions died at Meetra's. But what we did was for the good of the Republic, to save those who couldn't fight for themselves. Aside from my time as a Sith, everything that I have done has been to protect the Republic and the Jedi. What have your motivations been?"

"Survival has been my motivation, whether it was for myself or the galaxy. Usually, those goals were mutual. I realize this makes little difference, but I did not take pleasure in killing Meetra. I simply took the logical steps to achieve my goals," Scourge said. Revan stiffened and his hand drifted to his lightsaber. Anger radiated out from him, suffusing the Force with heat and vibrancy.

"_That_ is a discussion for another day," Revan growled. Scourge nodded. Thunder rumbled on the horizon. Revan turned and frowned. "Come, let's head back inside. Storms here are harsh." Scourge rose and started to go for the components of his lightsaber. They flew past him and into Revan's hands. The Jedi clucked his tongue and wagged a finger at him, like Jor had done to his daughter. Scourge silently seethed but was wise enough to leave the matter be. Revan descended into the lower level, and Scourge followed him silently. They paused in the library, and Revan pointed down the corridor Scourge had come out of. "Those will be your quarters for your duration here. My quarters are to the south, but do not disturb me tonight. You should meditate. Meet me in the courtyard at o'six hundred tomorrow morning, and we will speak again," Revan instructed. He turned abruptly and exited the room. Scourge followed his corridor, pausing at the door. He sighed deeply, wishing that he were back on the _Shield_. At least there, he wouldn't be treated like a youngling. He knew this had not been a mistake, but to be assigned meditation of all things was a punishment from the Force. He was sure of it.


End file.
